


The Adventures of Keet and Yance

by maychorian



Series: Boom Crash [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventures in Diplomacy, Child Characters Being Adorable, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lance Is Smart, Panic Attacks, Protectiveness, Shenanigans, Worldbuilding, keith is protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: Team Voltron is on a diplomatic mission to make allies of the Sylosians, a race of warriors. Hunk and Coran are trading tech secrets, Allura is negotiating with the king and queen, Shiro is guarding her, and Pidge has been adopted by the entire planet. Meanwhile, Keith and Lance are off entertaining the royal children. Or so it seems at first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one-shot. It is not a one-shot. I don't how many shots there will be. Probably just a few. But who knows. Not me.

Lance was flirting again. This time the audience was...more receptive, though. Keith wasn't sure if it was an improvement or not.

"Oh, Princess Risia, your radiance outshines the sun this morning!" Lance swept down into a low bow, holding the princess's hand gallantly in his. His fingers were curved gently around her dainty, double-jointed claws, carefully cradling. The princess giggled and blushed, hiding her face from view and wiggling all over with glee.

Of course, this princess was maybe...six years old, as humans would reckon it. And Lance was flirting indiscriminately with her and all of her sisters, of which there were many. Keith has lost track of the names of the royal children long ago. Lance, though...somehow he had memorized them all instantly, without even seeming to break a sweat. Keith was not completely convinced that it wasn't magic.

Princess Risia looked back at Lance, swaying back and forth in her pretty, flowing pink dress. "Thank you, Payadin Yance," she lisped. Adorably. Everything about this royal gaggle of children, this entire race, was weirdly adorable. Lance and Hunk had fallen for them instantly. Even Keith wasn't wholly immune, but he was doing his best to hold himself at a slight distance. They were here for a reason.

And okay, yes. The reason they were here was exactly what Lance was doing. But that didn't mean Keith had to do it, too. Lance was just...so good at it.

After a couple more increasingly elaborate compliments from Lance, Risia finally pulled free and ran off, laughing and shouting, to join a few of her siblings playing on the lawn. Of course, another princess was already waiting (they had formed a line to be schmoozed by Lance, it was simultaneously the cutest and most ridiculous thing Keith had ever seen), and Lance was ready. He swooped in, took her tiny hand, and started telling her in no uncertain terms just how beautiful she was.

Keith looked away, hands fidgeting at his sides. It felt weird to be away from the Castle of Lions and not be wearing his armor. But this was a diplomatic mission, and they were in the most secure location on the entire planet of Sylose, the royal palace. Allura had insisted that it would be rude if they appeared not to trust the Sylosian security to keep them safe. Still. The paladin armor had served as both formal wear and protective gear since this journey began, and Keith felt slightly naked without it.

Not that he was. He was very much the opposite of naked. Technically, these clothes covered just as much skin as the paladin armor, except for the fact that they didn't come with gloves. (Keith had tried to sneak his comfortable fingerless gloves into his ensemble, but Allura had caught him and nixed that on the spot.) They had been forced to raid the ancient storage rooms of the castle again to find formal Altean clothing to fit everyone, and Keith privately thought that they had failed in his case, though Coran had been sure that everything Keith was wearing could almost have been tailored to fit him. 

But it itched. His collar was too high, and the jacket hugged him in unfamiliar places. And the trousers didn't have enough storage room. Yeah, they had pockets, because no civilized race didn't put pockets in their clothes, but...they weren't big enough. Keith sighed. He missed his own clothes.

At least they had been allowed to bring their bayards. They were hooked to the back of their belts, hidden under the flowing formal jacket. Allura had impressed on them very strongly that using the bayard was an absolute last resort, though. "Only in case of _actual Galra attack,"_ had been her exact words. Otherwise, they were supposed to accept whatever weapons the Sylosians chose to allow them, if any. Keith had snorted at that, because what alien race was ever going to give a bunch of strangers weapons to play around with, but Shiro had given him a glare and Keith shut himself down before Allura figured out that the noise came from him.

Once Keith had seen where they were going, he'd revised his estimate of whether or not their hosts would just up and give them weapons. They were visiting...basically a fairy tale castle. Like, even more so than the Castle of Lions. It was built into the side of a mountain, sprawling and huge but seeming delicate from a distance, with high towers and battlements and stained glass and pretty much everything you'd expect to see on an Earth-style European castle.

Lance had gone sparkly-eyed immediately, the way he always did whenever anything about their adventures through the known universe remotely matched his daydreams of being a knight-in-shining-armor rescuing damsels in distress or whatever. Keith, though, just saw a place that probably did a lot of stuff with very cool old weapons. There was probably an _armory._ He wanted to try them _all._

The Sylosians weren't quite what he'd expected either, from Allura's descriptions. She had said that they were a race of strong warriors, with a deep tradition of defense, which was why the Galra hadn't managed to conquer them yet. They were surely on Zarkon's to-do list, but for now they were strong enough, and far enough away from the center of the Galra Empire, that they'd been able to hold out. Which made them extremely attractive allies for Team Voltron, of course.

So somehow Keith had gotten it into his head that this was a race of big, muscular warriors on par with the Galra. He had expected to be towered over by everyone they met, expected a lot of suspicious looks from narrowed eyes, tense expressions and guarded shoulders. He had not expected a race of, essentially, tiny, sharp-eyed birds.

The Sylosians were humanoid, with the usual arrangement of head, body, arms, and legs. But their hair was like very fine, elongated feathers, and actual feathers overlayed the tops of their heads, and their exposed skin was covered with what looked like fine down. They came in all sorts of colors, though if Keith watched carefully he thought he could pick up family resemblance amongst some of them. Their mouths were stiff, with pointed lips a little like a beak. Their eyes were small and faced the front, so they had obviously come from predator stock, and when Keith saw how closely they watched, and how sharp some of their claws were... Yeah, the warrior thing started to make sense. He wasn't going to underestimate any of them, that was for sure.

And calling them tiny was an exaggeration. The tallest Sylosians, like the royal couple, were only an inch or two shorter than Keith. But the vast majority were shorter than them, which meant that most of Team Voltron towered over them. Allura had shapeshifted to be closer to their height, as well as changed the color of her skin to a soft, buttery yellow not unlike the queen's, but the humans didn't have that advantage.

Except Pidge. The instant they stepped out of Blue to greet the entourage waiting for them, every Sylosian within fifty yards went bug-eyed over her. The royal couple had already had diplomatic smiles on their faces to greet Allura with, but the moment they had a chance to look over the paladins, they fixated on Pidge. "Princess Allura!" the queen had exclaimed, interrupting whatever the king had been in the middle of saying, some bland greeting speech that probably even he wasn't listening to. "Please introduce us to the Green Paladin!"

The king immediately stopped pretending that what he was saying was important and looked at Allura expectantly. She blinked, eyebrows raising, then agreed. "Of course, let's get on with the introductions, then. This is the Black Paladin, Shiro..."

"No!" The queen spread her arms, long white top feathers tufting up from her head in what Keith quickly learned was a sign of excitement or agitation. "Start with the _Green Paladin."_

And that was that. Every single Sylosian they'd met so far had fallen in love with Pidge on first sight. She was understandably weirded out, but after Allura had pulled her aside and given her a hurried, whispered crash course on diplomacy, she came back smiling and gracious, though her eyes were pained. The queen and king refused to let Pidge out of their sight and practically doted on her every move, so she was currently stuck with Shiro and Allura doing the negotiation thing. She was probably bored out of her mind. Keith didn't envy her at all.

At least Hunk and Coran's job was more fun. They were deep in the palace with the Sylosian heads of science, talking about technology and sharing information. From the look on Hunk's face, they were probably going to find the kitchens, too, before long. Keith wished him well on his quest.

And somehow Keith and Lance had gotten this duty. Which Keith wasn't sure how to characterize. Not babysitting—most of the royal brood were plenty old enough to care for themselves, though there was a passel of "chicklings" as the Sylosians called them underfoot at all times. After Hunk and Coran headed off with the scientists, the king had simply gestured at a Sylosian Keith had taken for a random courtier and annouced that his oldest daughter would show the Red Paladin and Blue Paladin around the palace to "impress on them the wonders of Sylose." 

So Keith and Lance had gone with the royal daughter, grateful to escape. Behind them, Allura and the queen had settled down for a long session of diplomatic one-upmanship. It was an endless list of, "Your palace is beautiful." "Your Blue Lion is amazing." "Your guards are well-trained." "Your Paladins are very handsome." Or so it sounded to Keith, anyway. Obviously everything took much, much longer to say, because diplomacy always took forever. 

In the hallway, though, their new escort turned to them with her cheeks puffed up and eyes bright in a big Sylosian smile. "I'm Princess Milifaria, but you can call me Mili. Let's go have fun!" Then she grabbed both of their hands in her strong, scaly talons and ran.

Sylosians were small, but they were fast. Keith and Lance both had to work a little bit to keep up. It was fun, though. They flashed through hallways and corridors, past gigantic windows and expansive tapestries and statues in alcoves. Before they'd gone far, other Sylosians started to join them, leaping out from doorways and around corners, yelling and laughing in their high-pitched, shrieking way. 

Keith might have been alarmed, but he saw the family resemblance with the first princess. These were more sons and daughters of the royal couple. There were a lot of them. Did the Sylosians give birth in clutches, like birds on Earth? It would probably be rude to ask. He still wanted to, though.

Lance wasn't wary about the newcomers at all. He was grinning from the instant the three of them started running, and that grin just got bigger the farther they went and the more little birds joined them. Of course, part of that could have been because a pretty girl was holding his hand. Then they reached some kind of back door on the palace and streamed out into a massive network of gardens and lawns. These plots of land were sheltered between the bulk of the palace and the mountain beyond, but this time of day there was plenty of sunlight, and the entire area was absolutely stunning. Some of these plants had clearly come from off-world, but they were all being maintained with meticulous care.

As soon as they were in the open, Mili dropped their hands, and Lance and Keith were swarmed by small Sylosians. Keith was even more overwhelmed and weirded out than that time with Arusians, but Lance was in his element. Little ones kept tugging on his clothes and hanging off his arms and hands, and Lance grinned at all and sundry, answering the questions that came at him a mile a minute.

"Did you really fly that blue lion machine? Do you fly all the time? Are you a good flyer? What's your name? What's the Red Paladin's name? Can we play in the blue lion? Does the lion have a name? What's the lion's name? What are your friends' names? Can we see the Green Paladin? Will you give us a ride in the blue lion?" It just kept going and going. Lance laughed and answered as quickly as he could, but his words kept getting overrun with more questions.

Kids were hanging off Keith, too, but not nearly as many, and no one was asking him questions. They all preferred to look to Lance for that. Clearly he had celebrity status, since he was the Blue Paladin (it was funny how Keith could hear the capitals in their voices) and they could all see the gigantic blue lion peeking above the ramparts on the far side of the palace grounds. That was fine with Keith. Let Lance take the attention. He liked it. Keith was happy to provide support in the background.

Eventually, though, even Lance got overwhelmed by sheer physical numbers. He was still smiling and laughing, cheerfully answering the same questions over and over, when the press of little bodies against his legs finally exceeded his capacity to withstand the weight. Keith caught a flash of panic on his face, and then Lance was on the ground under a dogpile of tiny kids. The chicklings were still laughing, of course, immensely pleased with their new human plaything, and more of them were piling on by the second. But Lance had stopped making any noise.

Keith was over there in a heartbeat, lifting little bodies out of the way as quickly and carefully as he could. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized, hoping in a distant sort of way that he was being respectful enough. "Sorry, I just gotta get to my friend, sorry..."

He dug him out, found Lance flat on the ground, staring up at the sky with his face blank and pale. Okay, good. He hadn't had time to panic yet, not even with all that weight suddenly landing on his chest. Keith reached a hand down, and Lance snagged it, palm to palm, in a desperate grip. Keith hauled him up with one strong heave, and Lance stood there, leaning against him arm to arm as he fought to catch his breath.

The little kids milled around, chirping worriedly, and Lance managed a shaky smile. "I'm okay, I'm okay. You didn't hurt me. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Everything's fine." Which was just so... _Lance,_ to instantly give himself over to reassuring the people who had almost harmed him even when he had every right to be upset and overwhelmed...

Keith's hand tightened around Lance's upper arm. He hadn't realized he was still holding him, but he was. And well, Lance's legs were wavering underneath him, so it was all for the good. It wasn't enough to be noticeable to anyone but Keith, hopefully. But Keith was sharply aware of just how bad that could have gotten, just how quickly. If Lance had gone into a full-on panic attack, it would have scared all of the children badly and probably set back their diplomacy efforts.

A few older siblings waded their way into the press, shushing the little chicklings, rubbing their hands over their heads and urging them to go play, give the Blue Paladin a moment to catch his breath, they could talk to him more later. Mili moved over to Keith and Lance, her big eyes liquid with regret. "I'm so sorry, Paladin Lance. I didn't realize the little ones would be too heavy for you."

Lance laughed, just a touch hysterically, and straightened up against Keith's side. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm fine. I used to play like that with my little siblings all the time. It just surprised me when they all jumped in at once, that's all. I'm okay. Could you just, uh...give me a moment?"

She nodded and moved away to distract the chicklings. Keith turned to Lance, watching him carefully. Lance was taking slow, deep breaths, staring out over the gardens as if seeking calm there.

"Are you really okay?" Keith asked in a low voice. "Do you need to go back to Blue?" That was why they had brought the blue lion for this mission instead of a pod ship, of course: so Lance would have somewhere to retreat if he needed to, and so he'd be able to keep talking to Blue whenever either of them wanted to.

Lance shook his head. "I'm fine." But his voice was soft and distant.

Keith frowned. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Even I would panic if I was suddenly dogpiled by twenty tiny strangers."

Lance shook off his distant mood and flashed Keith a smile. It seemed genuine. "Yeah, but that's because you're, like, a teenage hermit, dude. I really am fine, I promise." He pulled in a deep breath in proof, only an edge of a shake to it. "See? The exposure therapy is working. At least for short periods. Plus, I knew you would come dig me out right away, so I only had to hold out until you got there. It's all good."

Keith wasn't satisfied, but he gave a slow nod. He needed to trust Lance to know his limits. Allura had had a talk with him about that, too, when Keith had gone a little, well...overboard on the protective thing on the last mission. Keith couldn't help it, though. He just really didn't want Lance to get hurt again.

But yeah, he would try. Trust Lance. Lance trusted Keith all the time, after all. He really should try to return the favor.

Lance sighed and leaned into his shoulder a little harder. His voice lowered, words aimed right at Keith's ear. "Listen, I know this seems like fluff duty. We're just supposed to hang out with the little princes and princesses and have fun, right? But there's more going on here. One of the older princes, Yarian, you see him over there?" He tipped his chin toward a Sylosian who stood a bit off from the others, watching over the chicklings with an air of cautious affection. 

Keith squinted at him, then nodded. Not because he'd noticed the prince before, but to show Lance that he was listening. Lance nodded his understanding.

"He's been watching us the whole time. The older princes and princesses...I bet they're deeply trusted by their parents. They're watching us, evaluating us. Seeing what the paladins of Voltron are really like. The Sylosians are looking for strong, useful allies who also won't, like, ruin their culture or anything. So I can't collapse just because some little kids jumped on me, okay? I know you and Coran and everyone else are going to tell me that I'm not weak, it's just something we have to deal with, but to them, that would _definitely_ look like weakness. We need to keep it under control. Just for a couple of days or whatever."

Keith grunted in ackowledgement. He didn't like it, but he saw where Lance was coming from. "Still. If gets to be too much, just give the signal. I'll cover for you."

Lance grinned. "Of course. I expect nothing less from you, my buddy, my man, my Ace bandage, my numero uno compadre in arms."

Keith smiled, a bit reluctantly, but genuinely for that. Lance had a weird gift for setting even him at ease with his seemingly endless prattle of off-the-wall expressions. "Okay."

Lance chuckled and looked away. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I see a whole _slew_ of princesses who need to be flirted with."

Keith nodded and let him go. Still, he couldn't bring himself to join in. He stood at a slight remove, watching over Lance and the entire flock of royal children at the same time. After a few minutes, though, he felt a tug on his hand and looked down to find that one little princess, Risia wasn't it, hanging off him with bright, sparkling eyes and puffed-up cheeks.

"Payadin Keet!" she exclaimed. "Pyay wit me, Payadin Keet!"

Okay. He should have known he wouldn't be allowed to keep himself separate for long. Keith sighed, but he went with her. If he let the chicklings dogpile him instead, at least it would give Lance some (literal) breathing room.

Yep. That was what he was telling himself on this one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say this a lot, but some of this was influenced by a fun conversation with riallasheng.

Keith never liked trying to live up to other people's expectations of him. Either he didn't care enough, as with the majority of his foster parents, and came off as anti-social and uncooperative even when he was honestly trying to succeed, or he cared too much, as with Shiro and certain instructors at Garrison, and felt like he was too clingy and desperate and unpleasant to be around. After Lance pointed out that they were being evaluated, Keith was afraid that he would have the same problems with the Sylosians and end up ruining the mIission for everyone.

But Lance didn't seem to have any problems at all. Now that Keith was aware of the situation, he could see a certain kind of seriousness under Lance's breezy flirting and socializing with the royal children. But it didn't seem to bog him down at all. He was genuinely having fun and enjoying himself, despite the gravity of the mission. Keith found himself relaxing, too, just watching him.

Plus, it was hard to be tense and uptight when little kids kept tugging on his hands and wanting to play with him. Perhaps some of Lance's early celebrity had transferred to Keith now. Or maybe the little princes and princesses were wise enough to see that Lance needed a bit of a break from the overwhelming attention they'd lavished on him. It would be unusual for such young creatures to be so understanding and intelligent, but, as Keith had noted before, this was an exceptionally observant species.

"Payadin Keet! Up, Payadin Keet! Up!" Keith turned to the chickling, who was standing on his foot in order to get closer to him. This wasn't Risia, but a tiny male Keith couldn't remember the name of. His facial down was light blue, his top feathers a vivid turquoise and currently standing up from his head in excitement. He lifted both hands toward Keith, four long, powerful fingers tipped with claws opening and closing eagerly.

Keith smiled and reached down under the chickling's arms to pick him up. These children were very light—made sense, he supposed, hollow bones for flying, even if the species didn't fly anymore. When he'd been digging Lance out from the dogpile, the kids had noticed how easily he could lift them and decided it was fun. "Are you ready?" Keith asked.

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. Keith started slowly, lifting him off the ground as if he was almost too heavy for his strength. The boy giggled and spread his arms. "And... _up!"_ Once Keith's hands were above his waist, he lifted faster and faster...

...All the way to the top of his armspan, where the Sylosian child hung for a moment, suspended in the air with his arms and legs outstretched. He shrieked in glee. Keith grinned up into his face. To a Sylosian, even Keith was tall.

"And...down." He suited actions to words, gently bringing the boy down to set his feet on the ground again. The little boy laughed and ticked his claws together, which seemed to be the Sylosian equivalent of human clapping, then ran off to play tag with his siblings. Another child was already waiting, holding their hands up for Keith.

"Payadin Keet! Up, up!"

It went on for a while. Keith was on the edge of getting tired—not physically, the children were so small and light that it was like picking up a couple of grapes, but emotionally from smiling and interacting with so many different faces and personalities—when something changed. One of the older princes, not Yarian, and therefore Keith did not know his name, approached and met Keith's eyes over the heads of the little ones between them. Keith didn't think he was misreading the challenge in the prince's eyes, and he set down the chickling he was currently holding and straightened to face him, hands at his sides.

The children chattered in disappointment that the Paladin Rides were apparently over, and the prince looked over them with an expression that read of fondness. "You had your turn with the Red Paladin," he said, voice warm and affectionate. "Let Big Brother Eforan play with him now."

To Keith's surprise, the disappointment dispersed in an instant. "Big Brother Eforan, Big Brother Eforan!" the chicklings cried, almost a chant. They milled around the older prince, letting him pet their top feathers, before rushing away en masse to somewhere else in the garden. The little princesses still hanging on Lance noticed the excitement and clattered away, too.

Keith watched them go, head tilting in puzzlement, then looked back to the prince, who had crossed the stone plaza where he stood to face him. Lance moved up beside him, too, not shoulder to shoulder to present a united front as if they were standing against an enemy, but making his presence known. "Are you Big Brother Eforan?" Keith asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, just because it made him a feel a little more comfortable. Allura would tell him not to, that they should show complete openness to their hosts, but Allura wasn't here.

The prince's eyelids lowered a bit, a gesture Lance had explained was a bit like smugness or contentment. It showed that the Sylosian doing it did not have to watch the person he was with with wide eyes, either because he trusted him or because he didn't consider him a threat. Keith would bet that this was the latter case. He considered bristling, but it seemed undiplomatic.

The prince nodded. "I am Prince Eforan, yes."

"Prince Eforan," Keith amended as graciously as he could. "You want to play with me?"

Eforan laughed lightly, a trilling sound low in his throat. His plumage was particularly bright and striking, a whorling pattern of red and black on his cheeks, top feathers a startling crimson over long black hair. "The chicklings think it is play. They are eager to watch."

Keith settled back on his heels. He began to understand what this was about. "You want to duel with me?"

Eforan's cheek feathers puffed in happiness. "Exactly. We have heard that the Red Paladin is fond of a blade. To keep it fair, I was chosen to face you instead of any of my peer-sisters. You would not last a hundred ticks against any of them. You and I, though... We might put on a pretty show. If you're not afraid to play with me. You will, of course, be permitted to choose your weapon from our stores."

Keith smiled, slow and wide, and his eyes narrowed too. He hoped the body language translated. His heart was pounding. _He was gonna get to see the armory._

He had to rein it in. "Sounds like a good time. Where are the weapons?"

"I'll show you." Prince Eforan swept an arm toward a path between a tall hedge on one side and rock garden dotted with colorful flowers on the other. He led the way, and Keith followed willingly.

Lance fell in beside him, bumping his arm against Keith's as they moved. "Are you okay with this?" he muttered not far from his ear.

Keith cast him a glance. "Why wouldn't I be? It's a friendly duel between diplomatic envoys. And the chicklings will be watching. Neither of us will aim for blood."

Lance snorted. "You assume that, but... I dunno. That guy seems dangerous."

Keith frowned. It was unlike Lance to be suspicious, even of people they had just met. Maybe something about this prince had put him on edge for some reason. Something Keith had missed, even though he was far more wary of possible threats than Lance usually was.

"Is there a reason you think so?" he asked as openly as he could. Not questioning Lance's judgment, just...looking for details.

"Not really." Lance grumbled under his breath for a moment, shoulders hunching, then gave Keith a wide-eyed stare. "Just...be careful. You'll be using a weapon you aren't familiar with, and we're not wearing our armor. You don't have the usual margin for error."

That was true. Keith rubbed a hand over his arm, suddenly feeling that nakedness again. The Altean formal clothing looked sharp in the mirror, but in a real fight... Well. It might be slightly better than a suit made of tissue paper.

At the end of the path Eforan led them down was an outdoor weapons storage area. It was covered by a roof overhead, upheld by high, delicate stone arches, but the sides were open to the weather. Under the roof were racks and racks of weapons Keith had never seen before. Real weapons, not ones blunted for training or display. He could see the light glinting off the sharp edges, blades made of something like metal or polished ceramic.

Keith caught his breath, staring at them in wonder. He could feel Lance's eyes on him and knew he was grinning too big, too wide, too much like a shark. But he couldn't help how he felt. These were just too cool. Lance could be worried or not as he chose, but Keith was _happy._

Eforan's cheeks were puffed as he led the way into the armory, evidently just as pleased as Keith with the upcoming fight. He went directly to a certain rack and picked up a weapon, one with a long pole and a shiny black blade at both ends, a bit like a two-sided glaive or a scythe. He spread his stance and swung the weapon in an easy circle, hand over hand, not breaking eye contact with Keith the entire time. He was obviously very familiar with this weapon. It was probably his favorite. 

Keith nodded in acknowledgment of his skill, then started perusing the weapons for his own choice. There were all kinds to choose from, familiar in function if not in design. There were only so many ways that any culture could create a thing meant to cut and destroy. He even saw what looked like a rack of recurve bows and curiously fletched arrows, but he stayed far away from that section. Long-range had never been his specialty. That was more Lance's speed.

Lance walked with him, gaping around at all the weapons. He wasn't as gleeful as Keith, but he was certainly fascinated. Keith nudged his arm and pointed at the bows. "Wanna have an archery contest with the princes later?"

Lance looked where he was pointing, then made a face. "Nah, bad idea. Shooting arrows is way different than shooting a gun. The mechanics are all different, and it takes, like, decades of practice to be any good. I did take a class once for fun, but I decided to stick with going to the range with my step-dad."

Keith hummed. He'd never thought about that, but it made sense when Lance explained it. His attention had been captured by a rack of what looked like swords, though.

Lance moved up beside him and studied the weapons with him. "As ever, Keet likes the things that go stab stab stab," he said, voice light and teasing.

"Shut up, Yance." The corner of Keith's mouth turned up, and Lance snickered. 

Keith was already reaching for a likely-looking blade, flipping it up into his hand. The balance felt pretty good, but the grip was weird. Of course. It was designed for very different fingers. He tried wrapping his hand around the hilts several different ways, but none of them felt good. This wasn't going to work, then. A secure grip was essential for sword-fighting.

He put that sword back and tried a different one. The long, curved saber-like blade was verdigris green, the hilts wrapped in dark leather. This one was lighter, but the grip was longer. He tested the hold in his fingers, then stepped back and cut the air a few times. Lance stepped further back, too, giving him room. Keith swept the sword in another powerful diagonal slash, and Lance gave a low whistle.

"You like it, samurai?"

Keith gave him a grin. "I like it."

Lance pointed to another part of the armory. "I saw shields over there."

Keith nodded, and they went. Neither of them stated the obvious: that Keith was putting himself at a disadvantage by choosing a short-range weapon against Eforan's more mid-range choice. A shield would help right that imbalance. Plus it was just a good idea to have one.

The selection of shields was just as wide and varied as for any of the other weapon types. Keith tried several, then settled on a mid-size shield that was about the same size as his energy shield during the remote drone training back at the castle. It was made of some kind of lacquered horn, substantial-feeling but not too heavy, the lacquer painted on the front of the shield in colorful swirls of blue and black. It was silly, but Keith felt a little bit like he was carrying Shiro and Lance into battle with him, and that made him feel even more confident about the outcome.

Once he had decided, Keith hefted his sword in one hand, shield in the other, and gave Eforan a nod. The prince nodded back. His cheek feathers had deflated from their happy puff, and his eyes were all the way open. He was taking this seriously now. He turned on his heel and started off, and Lance and Keith fell in behind him.

The place for the duel was a fair distance off, almost on the complete other side of the extensive gardens. Maybe it had been set up that way to give the duelists plenty of time to settle themselves on the way to the fight. Keith appreciated it, certainly. He went over several strategies in his mind, based on what Eforan might or might not do with his weapon. After training with a staff-wielding gladiator for so many months, Keith felt confident in his ability to take him, no matter what the prince dealt out. At his side, Lance was silent, offering neither encouragement nor advice, but Keith was sure that he was thinking deeply, too, and closely observing everything around them.

Eventually they reached what looked like like an amphitheatre sunk down into the stony mountainous ground beneath them. It was about size of a tennis court, plenty of room for manuevering. The terraced seats were already filled with princes and princesses of all sizes, some holding banners of red or black, some waving long thin flags. They cheered uproariously as soon as the duelists came into view, loud and cheerful and sustained. Keith's steps faltered at the noise, and he blinked in surprise at the greeting, but he figured they all must be cheering for their brother, not for him.

But then he heard the calls. Yes, plenty of them were crying "Eforan, Eforan" or "Big Brother Eforan" or even "Prince Eforan." (Were some of the audience members retainers or servants, or other royal family? Maybe the king and queen hadn't actually had several dozen children all by themselves.) But there were definitely some cries of "Red Paladin," and "Paladin Keith" and "Payadin Keet" mixed up in there, too.

Eforan had already stepped down into the amphitheatre and was bowing to the crowd, then standing with his arms spread and turning with a flourish to bow again. Keith wasn't sure if "preening" was the right word to describe it, but that was what came to mind. Keith had halted at the edge of the sunken area, still staring around in surprise, and Lance had stopped with him, looking around, too, taking in the cheerful, holiday atmosphere, the happy expressions and colorful bits of fabric waving in the air.

"Put on a beautiful show!" the crowd cried. "Let your colors fly! Let's have a pretty fight!"

Then Lance's eyes popped, and he let out a little _"Oh."_ as if he'd suddenly understood something his mind had been picking at for a while. He turned to Keith and grabbed his arms, then dragged him a little distance back down the path. Keith let himself be hauled, nonplussed but willing to hear whatever Lance had figured out.

"Listen." Lance's voice was low, head bent down, and Keith unconsciously bent to meet him. His eyebrows raised, urging Lance to go on. "You gotta be careful in this match."

Keith frowned. "You already said that."

"Yeah, but now I know why." Lance lifted his head to look back at the crowd, and Keith looked too. Lance bent down again. "Have you noticed something odd about the Sylosians? Well, not odd. Just different. Something we're not used to. It's their culture, and it probably has biological reasons behind it. Man, I'm glad my sister Stacy wants to be an ornithologist, now. She used to talk about it at the table all the time, and sometimes I zoned out, but I'm glad I listened sometimes."

Keith shifted from foot to foot. No, he had not noticed whatever Lance had, he was pretty sure. "Just tell me."

"Have you noticed the coloring of the different Sylosians? I mean, not just that they come in all sorts of colors, although that's cool, and _wow,_ Stacy would be so happy to visit this planet, I hope I get to bring her someday, but the vibrancy? How some are different than others? It's based on gender. The ladies are all kind of sweeter and softer colors, while the guys are bright and bold."

Keith thought about it. He lifted his head to look at the crowd again, then bowed back to Lance. "Yeah. I see that. I mean, I didn't notice, not really, except maybe in the back of my mind. But I see what you're talking about."

Lance nodded eagerly. He talked very fast, excited to share what he'd learned. Keith listened very hard to make sure he didn't miss anything. "Right. There are other gender differences among the Sylosians, too. The ladies, on average, are bigger and buffer, and the guys are more slender and well-trimmed. They dress a little differently, too. I mean, they all dress nice, they're living in the palace, of course they dress nice. But the guys tend to accessorize more, and it looks like they spend a little more time grooming their feathers."

"What are you getting at, Lance?"

Lance drew a breath. "This is an exhibition match. It's supposed to be just for display, for putting on a flashy show. Something fun to watch. Because we're males, both of us. And in Sylosian culture, Sylosian _physiology,_ the males are the weaker gender. Sylosian males are small and pretty and draw the eye. Back in the old days they probably drew the predators away from the nest, and the ladies protected the chicklings. That's why their military is so strong on defense, you see? Because that's what the stronger gender specialized in, and that's how their culture developed."

This blew Keith's mind. Not a lot. Not as much as ending up in space as the pilot of a giant mechanical space lion fighting a tyrannical empire that had been conquering the universe for ten thousand years. But at least as much as Hunk's dessert pizza. 

"Okay," he said slowly, absorbing this. "So that's why Eforan said I wouldn't last two minutes against his peer-sisters. They're probably big and strong and built like tanks. Well, for Sylosians."

Lance nodded. "Princess Mili didn't have much trouble dragging us down the corridors of the palace, if you remember."

"Yeah. And the little girls sure did fall all over themselves when you complimented their beauty."

"It must be a novelty for them. They probably get praised for being strong and intelligent more often, while the boys get told how nice they look." Lance tilted his head at this, smiling. "They were complimenting me back an awful lot, but I didn't think much of it at the time. I already know that I'm a pretty boy, don't need anyone to validate me."

Keith wrinkled his nose at him. "No one told me _I_ look nice."

"They did, you just weren't paying attention. Back with the king and queen? Man, she was going on and _on_ about how handsome we are."

"Oh."

"And they fell in love with Pidge because she's female, and also young, and so therefore she's very important and very cute and needs to be protected and guided and _obviously_ she has to be there for all the negotiations, because she's gonna lead the Castle of Lions someday. Having Allura as our leader on the ground definitely helped cement that."

Keith nodded, then blinked. "Okay. This is all very interesting and so on. By why do you think I need to be careful in this match? If Eforan and I are both expected to be flashy and good-looking, but not necessarily strong, then that should mean that the duel is even more just for show than I thought it was."

The crowd was getting restive at the long delay. Lance sensed it and straightened from their huddle to give them a wave. "Just a little longer!" he called. "We're gonna make this the most _beautiful_ fight you've ever seen!"

The crowd roared in response, excitement heightened to the rafters again. Eforan puffed out his chest and strutted. Lance turned back to Keith with a grin.

"Okay, yes." Instant seriousness as the smile fell away. "It was supposed to be a friendly match, absolutely. Eforan is obviously popular, and he's probably known for putting on really good shows. Plus, the two of you match. Red and black. Pretty awesome. But Eforan... He has something to prove, man. You didn't see the way he was watching you when you were choosing your sword and shield."

"Hostility?" Keith's hand tightened on his sword.

Lance shrugged. "Kind of. More like... It reminded me of myself."

Keith frowned. "How do you mean?"

Lance's shoulders wiggled uncomfortably. "He's...pretty. Known for putting on a good show. Popular, well-liked, at least among his own family. But not strong. Not a hero. Never that."

Keith's heart felt heavy. "Oh."

"He wants to prove that he can be more than what he's known as by beating you at your own game, that's all. So...be careful. He might act like this is an exhibition match, but he's going to go all out. Probably right from the start."

Keith remembered what Lance had said earlier. Their weapons were sharp, and they weren't wearing armor. Either of them. "What's the play here?"

Lance rubbed his chin for a moment, considering. "Well... You definitely should put on a good show. I know you and Shiro both tend to favor brutal efficiency over flashy moves, but do your best to make it entertaining. You want all the Sylosians to love you for your awesome skills. No one's gonna fall for your personality." He tipped Keith a wink to prove he didn't mean it, just teasing.

Keith just nodded thoughtfully. He already knew that this was the way it worked for the two of them. Lance charmed people with his social skills, and Keith...didn't charm them. He impressed them. It worked for him. "And how should I handle Eforan? Shut him down?"

Lance hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe. But... I don't know. Play it by ear. You don't want to eviscerate the guy. We want to make all of these folks into allies, including Eforan. I know you probably won't have any trouble countering any of his moves, but don't obliterate him."

"You think I should throw the match?" Keith wanted to be offended at the idea, but he wasn't. This was diplomacy, and politics, and social interaction, and it was beyond his ken. He would follow Lance's lead on this, no matter where it went.

Lance, though, made a noise of outrage in his stead. _"No!_ We still want to, you know, show the Sylosians how strong we are. Just...make it look good. You might need to hold back, but not too much. Don't give Eforan a reason to hate you, but also don't let him think he can beat you in a fair fight. Not by the end. Show your stuff."

Keith nodded, though his head hurt a little bit. It was a lot to keep track of, and suddenly what he had thought was going to be a nice, relaxing sword fight had gotten a lot more complicated. But he trusted Lance. If this was what Lance thought was the best move to make, Keith would do his best to comply.

"Okay." Lance straightened up, and Keith did too. Lance clapped a hand on his back and pushed him toward the amphitheatre. "That's enough strategy talk. Go get 'em, tiger."

Keith walked forward to the fight, his back feeling warm where Lance had slapped him. Eforan was waiting, and the crowd beyond, and his sword felt supple and eager in his hand. All of Lance's admonitions and advice swirled in his head, but he held one thought strong and steady above the rest.

This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Keith stood facing Eforan in the middle of the amphitheatre, the shouts of the crowd surrounding them, a blue sky above. There were several yards of clearance between them, neither making a move to approach the other yet. Keith stood with his left profile toward Eforan, shield up, sword ready in his hand behind it. Eforan twirled his double-bladed staff in both hands. 

The calls and cries outside the two of them had faded to background insignificance, though a corner of Keith's awareness still kept track of Lance's voice. He sounded different than the Sylosians, lungs built differently, perhaps, larger and more deep-chested, so his tone had a resonance that the aliens somehow lacked. Or maybe that was just because Keith had chosen to hear him and no one else.

"Acknowledge your fans!" Lance cried, sounding cheerful and encouraging rather than berating. "They're rooting for you! You have to show your gratitude. Eforan bowed like fifty times while we were talking. You can do it once!'

Fair enough. They were here to put on a show. After discussing strategy with Lance, Keith had walked straight down to meet Eforan without looking right or left, but Lance was correct. Part of putting on a show was being a showman. It wasn't something Keith had ever had to consider before.

He could keep it simple, at least. Keith turned toward the crowd and raised his head to look over the Sylosians gathered to watch him fight. Many of the chicklings were in the front row or sitting in the older Sylosians' laps. He recognized some of the little boys and girls he and Lance had been playing with. Those were the ones cheering for him the most lustily, cupping their hands around their beak-like mouths to yell for "Paladin Keith" and "Payadin Keet."

It wasn't hard to smile for them. Not at all. A grin spread over Keith's face, and he raised his sword in a salute. The kids went even more wild. A couple almost fell off the laps they were perching on, and the older Sylosians holding them grabbed them around the waist and hauled them back against chest and stomach, laughing in delight.

Salute made, Keith turned back to Eforan, sword flicking to his side again. His knees bent, stance loose and ready, and Eforan stopped twirling his staff as he read the intent in Keith's body language. Both of them were ready to start.

The crowd quieted, too, most of the older members letting a hush of anticipation fall, though a few little chicklings were still yelling, too excited to be quiet. All of Lance's strategy advice milled around in Keith's head. Put on a good show. Don't end it too quickly, but make sure to win. Avoid brutality, but be wary of Eforan's desire to prove himself. Impress the watchers with skill and strength. Treat this as an exhibition match, even if Eforan does not intend to.

"The duel ends when I disarm you, or you yield," Eforan said, his voice clear and easy to understand despite the noise. 

Oh, right. They hadn't set a win condition. Well, the terms Eforan offered were fairly standard. Keith smiled and flicked the tip of his sword, making it hum in the air. "I accept."

Of course, he would be the one to disarm Eforan or make him yield, not the other way around. Keith planned to win. Just...not too quickly.

Eforan's stance mirrored Keith’s, knees bent, staff held almost perpendicular to his body in one hand with the other stretched for counterbalance. Keith set himself. Should he rush and attack, or wait for Eforan to make the first move?

He hesitated a moment too long, trying to decide, and Eforan made the choice for him. Eforan rushed toward him, feet pounding the pavement, staff flashing forward in a powerful circular motion that built off his momentum. Keith spun away, deflecting Eforan's blade with an upward sweep of his sword. He spun completely around so he ended up facing Eforan again, shield forward, sword back. His feet crossed, panther-like, as he moved in an arc. His eyes were trained on Eforan warily.

Eforan circled, too, spinning his staff on one side of his body, then the other. His sharp eyes were studying Keith's guard, waiting for an opening. Keith did not intend to present one. He barely heard the shouts and cries of praise and encouragement, though a corner of his mind was aware that the audience had liked the way he blocked Eforan's attack. The spin had not been necessary, but it had been visually pleasing and fun to watch. He hoped Lance was happy.

Keith and Eforan circled for another dozen seconds or so, watching each other. Then Keith chose to attack. He charged forward, bringing his sword out from behind his shield at the last moment, and slashed at Eforan from above. He was not surprised when Eforan simply raised the staff to block the strike. It was exactly what he would have done. The attack had been a test more than anything else, as well as Keith's best effort to draw out the fight. He withdrew with another flashy spin, then went back to watching Eforan from behind his shield.

The attack, as graceless as it had been, seemed to rattle Eforan. He snapped his beak-like mouth in a Sylosian snarl, then rushed Keith again. This time it wasn't a single strike with one end of the staff that Keith could deflect easily, either. It was an endless flurry of blows, one side, then the other, then the other again, all at slightly different angles, all astonishingly powerful and sustained.

Keith blocked the blows on sword and shield fairly easily, but then he blinked. He was backing up. His feet were moving him away from Eforan against his conscious consent. The blows were singing up his arms, rattling his bones, then his entire body. Eforan...Eforan was _strong._ Stronger than Keith had expected, even though he had been reminding himself all along not to underestimate the Sylosians, even though Lance had warned him, even though he had known that this would not be easy.

Keith had assumed that neither of them would aim for blood, but that did not seem to be the case. Eforan was serious, and if he was holding back, Keith couldn't tell. An urgent pulse beat in Keith's temple, and he rolled away on his shoulder and came up in crouch, covering his movement with his shield. He could not take a wound here. It would terrify the kids and worry Lance. He must not falter.

Eforan's face was fierce, head-feathers raised higher above his head than Keith had seen on any other Sylosian. It was... Well. It was a little intimidating. This was a Sylosian in full agression, full attack, full battle mode, strong and relentless and skilled. And Keith was in retreat.

Eforan's blade sang out one more time, and Keith felt a sharp sting along his forehead above his left eye. He stumbled back, shield rising to fend it off with sudden violence, and Eforan finally relented. The attacks stopped, and Eforan backed off to the middle of the stage, staff held angled away from his body. His head-feathers were still up, mouth open as he panted. His eyes were sharp and bright.

He was being honorable, giving Keith a moment to recover. Keith straightened and touched his wrist to his forehead. Blood. It was starting to trickle toward his eye, but there wasn't a lot of it, so hopefully it wouldn't obscure his vision. Just a shallow cut, startling but not dangerous.

Keith's gaze went to the stands, afraid to find the chicklings subdued and frightened. Maybe Eforan hadn't meant to actually draw blood, and that was why he had retreated for the moment. Neither of them wanted to scare the children.

But the chicklings weren't frightened. They were still yelling, head-feathers raised in excitement, fists and feet pounding on the floor and seats and railings. The rest of the audience hadn't stopped cheering, either.

Ah, right. This was a race of warriors, no matter how cute and harmless they appeared to be. A little blood wasn't going to alarm them. Not even the babies.

It was a good thing they'd already set the win condition as disarming or forced yielding rather than first blood. Keith would have already lost, and that was unacceptable. He rubbed his wrist over the cut, smearing the blood around, then lowered his arm again and gave Eforan a nod. He was fine. Time to go again.

They circled each other, closer now, even more wary than before. Several times, Eforan's blades flicked out, testing Keith's defenses, and he slapped each strike aside. Now that he knew that he wouldn't frighten the chicklings with at least a limited amount of violence, Keith felt much looser and freer, more willing to meet force with greater forcer. Eforan seemed to sense that, which perhaps was why he was holding back on another all-out attack like the last one.

Keith itched, balancing forward on his feet. He wanted to attack. It felt uncomfortable to be on the defensive like this. But it was also necessary, at the moment. Eforan was strong. And he had probably been right—if Sylosian females were as much stronger than the males as Lance thought, Keith wouldn't have lasted two minutes against any of Eforan's peer-sisters. Skill was good, but overwhelming strength won out nine times out of ten.

Keith wasn't holding back, either. He had started the fight with some idea of checking his hand, dragging it out, but now he was giving everything he had just to keep up with Eforan. They circled, and Keith studied him, watching for an opening. There weren't any. Eforan's defense was as tight as a Sylosian particle barrier.

A haze of pink tinged Keith's left eye, and he squinted it shut. Blood. The cut must be bleeding more freely than he'd thought it would. At the moment it didn't hurt, too much adrenaline rushing in his veins. It was more annoyance than impediment. He could still do this. Keith opened his eye wide again and watched his opponent.

Their circling had moved enough that Keith now caught a glimpse of Lance's face over Eforan's shoulder. He was no longer yelling. He looked pale and serious, lips pressed in a straight line, eyes wide.

Ah. The cut on Keith's forehead hadn't frightened the chicklings. But it had frightened Lance.

A pressure and a burning began to build in Keith's chest, expanding from his heart. This wasn't what he wanted. Lance wasn't supposed to be scared. He was supposed to be enjoying himself hanging out with the little kids, acting like a big brother again, flirting with the princesses and teasing Keith with lighthearted humor. That was how the day had started, and Keith had liked it more than he'd realized at the time. 

Enough. This wasn't fun anymore. Keith wanted the fight to be over, and he wanted to win.

He picked his moment, then burst out of his defensive stance and leaped forward, shield covering his midsection while his sword swept to the side in a slash. Eforan raised his staff to block, stepping back on one foot to brace himself. Keith struck again and again, forcing him back what felt like an inch at a time. Eforan only put up with it for a couple of paces before he spun the staff, deflecting Keith's sword away in a wide arc and forcing him to step back himself when the motion left his face unprotected for a split second. 

Eforan brought the end of the staff around to strike at that opening, but Keith raised his shield to block. This time he tried to angle the shield in such a way as the blade might get stuck in it, but it bounced off the lacquered surface. Keith ground his teeth together and stepped forward again.

They continued to trade blows, moving back and forth over the amphitheatre ground. Now that Keith was fighting to protect Lance, and not just for his own enjoyment and desire to triumph, the duel felt deadly serious. The Sylosian weapon in his hand had been cool at first, interesting and different, but now he wanted his own bayard, his own shield. He wanted his armor so he could take more risks, accept a few glancing blows in his push for the prize. As it was, he had to be too cautious.

Not that he was being very cautious at all. At least, he wouldn't appear so from the outside. Keith was aware, on some level, of what he looked like. A whirling dervish of red and white, barely controlled sword strikes and erratic movements. It was a false impression. Everything was controlled. Everything was careful. Every risk was calculated.

Okay, that was a lie. But he was _mostly_ keeping in control and he was _mostly_ being careful, and that was more than he could usually say about his own fighting style. He couldn't take another wound, no matter how superficial. So he wouldn't.

After enough time moving back and forth, trading offensive and defensive roles, Keith acknowledged a truth, though. He was not going to be able to win by beating Eforan while he was on defense. Eforan's blocks were too tight, his weapon too well-suited for the task of protecting him, no matter how powerful and skilled Keith's strikes were. His normal modus operandi was to just keep attacking until something went through, but that wasn't going to work here.

How to win then? Because Keith was determined to win. No other outcome was acceptable.

He and Eforan were equally matched at the moment. Keith's sword and shield could not drive past Eforan's two-bladed staff, but Eforan also could not overcome him in return. Keith's fierce offense was not strong enough to slip through Eforan's perfect defense. They had been fighting for almost ninety seconds now, an eternity in a duel, at a complete stalemate.

Keith had to change the equation. He saw only one way to do that. He chose a moment when Eforan's blade was not heading toward him and abruptly took a step back, straightening as he moved. Eforan paused, crouched with his staff held in front of his body, and watched him. Keith stood still and watched him for a few seconds. Then he threw his shield away.

He did his best to make it showy, but not disrespectful to the shield itself. He liked that shield a great deal. It was a good shield, and relinquishing it tugged at his soul. But he couldn't win with it, and he had to win. He loosened his arm from the straps, then held the shield in one hand and tossed it away, overhand, a little like a frisbee. He wanted it to land in the grass, safe from clattering down on the stony ground of the amphitheatre.

Lance caught it. He held it firmly in both hands and gave Keith a nod over the blue and black surface. His face was still, but not blank. Understanding, but not grim. He got what Keith was doing.

Keith looked back to face Eforan fully, though he had never really stopped paying attention to him. He was grateful that he had chosen a sword with a long grip. Now, he settled both hands on the handle and settled himself in an offensive stance, one foot forward, sword lowering to point at his opponent.

Eforan's eyes flickered. Then he charged. The crowd yelled in approval. 

Keith deflected the blow coming toward his face with a powerful, two-handed stroke, pivoting on his heel to let the staff flash by him to the right. Then he shifted his grip and twirled his sword in a sharp circle, pressed against the haft. He forced it downward, driving Eforan's blade toward the ground. Eforan tried to compensate by pulling the blade up with all his strength, but Keith's move was too strong, too unexpected.

He followed it up with a stomp of his foot. He caught the staff under his foot and forced it all the way to the ground. Before Eforan could react, he stepped up the haft with his other foot, almost running toward Eforan on his own weapon. Eforan was strong, and under ordinary circumstances he could probably hold up Keith's weight with ease, never mind those hollow bones. But the shock and weight of Keith's footsteps was too much, too quickly. Eforan went to his knees in order to keep his weapon in his hands.

He had avoided being disarmed, which would have been the end of the duel. Keith was only disappointed for a second. He was still running toward Eforan, driving his feet down hard with each step, sword held in both hands. As he moved, he swept the sword around in a horizontal slash.

And he stopped, the sword a fraction of an inch from Eforan's neck. They both froze, panting. Keith's feet began to slip on the staff, the slope too great to maintain for long, but he kept his balance for the moment. Eforan stared up at him, then flicked his eyes sideways to the blade that would have taken his head off if Keith hadn't stopped when he had.

"I yield," he said quietly.

The crowd had gone silent in that moment, hushed by the strength and power of Keith's final gambit. Now, they erupted in cheers and cries. Keith nodded to Eforan, then stepped back off his weapon and let his sword fall to his side.

"Red Paladin, Red Paladin!" the crowd roared. "Paladin Keith! Payadin Keet!"

Keith blinked. His left eye was hazed with red. He swayed, and Lance was there, grabbing his shoulders in his hands.

"Good job, good job," Lance was saying, and somehow Keith heard him as if they were alone in a quiet room, despite the noise of the people all around. Lance's voice was calm and soft. And proud. "Good job, samurai. You did it. You did such a good job. Let's sit down now."

Keith sat. Right there on the ground. The breath ran out of him in a slow sigh. Now that the fight was over, his adrenaline was draining. He was dizzy. The cut on his forehead hurt.

"I won," he told Lance solemnly, because it seemed important that he should know.

Lance nodded, kneeling in front of him now with his hands still holding Keith's shoulders. "Yeah, you did." He beamed, brighter than the sun above. "It was the coolest thing I've ever seen you do, man. And I've seen you do some really cool things. Holy quiznak, I hope these people have video recorders somewhere. I wanna show _everyone."_

Keith smiled. Lance wasn't worried anymore. That was good.

He looked over Lance's shoulder, saw Eforan watching them. He didn't know Sylosian body language well enough to read Eforan's expression, but he didn't look happy. Had Keith managed to make Eforan hate him, despite his best efforts? He couldn't tell. He hoped not. Eforan was a good opponent. He would love to fight him again.

He gave Eforan a human salute, fingers against forehead, then flicked out. Hopefully Eforan could figure out what the gesture meant. Eforan's eyes glistened, and he nodded back. He turned to face the crowd and said something, probably thanking them for coming to the show. His arms were outstretched, one hand holding his weapon, still a showman through and through. Keith didn't pay attention to the words, just watched his body language. He thought he read defeat and disappointment there, but he wasn't sure.

Princess Mili was bringing cloth bandages and a bottle of some sort. Keith looked over at her approach, saw Lance watching her, waving both hands for the articles. They were going to clean Keith up, take care of his cut. That was fine. Keith didn't mind.

His gaze went back to Eforan. He was still too dizzy and buzzed from the fight to be able to tell what the prince thought of how he'd won, but he hoped that they weren't enemies, now. But if they were, well. Keith would deal with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been eighty-four years. Sorry for the unexpected hiatus. But if it makes you feel better, one reason for the long delay is because I was writing a Big Bang story that will be posting in a couple of months. It's at 57k words and it focuses on Keith, Lance, and Hunk, with all of the usual stuff you expect from me: torture, hurt/comfort, platonic cuddling, the works. I'm super excited to share it and I hope you all enjoy. But in the meantime, more Keet and Yance!

"Hey, Keith. How ya feeling?"

Keith opened his eyes slowly and stared up. He was lying in something soft, a shady roof shifting green above him. Grass. A tree. He was in the gardens of the Sylosian palace. His head wasn't hurting. He raised a hand and probed gingerly at the cut on his forehead. Something dry and flaky rubbed off on his fingers. He lifted his head to look at it, ashy gray and sprinkling down on his shirt like dust. He frowned.

"That's the salve Princess Mili put on your wound," Lance said helpfully.

Keith peered over at the sound of his voice and found Lance sitting cross-legged in the sunlit grass, playing with some kind of object in his hands. Two Sylosian children were draped over his lap, one male and one female, and another male was leaning on his back. "...Was I asleep?" Keith asked, just now catching on.

Lance nodded, seeming unconcerned. "Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Princess Yazia said it's a common response to the salve. Powerful stuff, I guess. Feeling better?"

Keith grunted. He put his hands behind his torso and levered himself up to a sitting position, then rubbed at his forehead again. More ashy residue came off in his fingers and sifted into the grass. The skin underneath was smooth, painless. The cut was gone. After just twenty minutes? Sylosian healing techniques rivaled Altean technology.

It was nice to be cured so quickly and flawlessly, but Keith couldn't help a shiver of uneasiness. He had fallen asleep in strange surroundings. Couldn't even remember doing it. He and Lance were completely on their own here, and he'd abandoned Lance to take watch by himself without even asking first. Allura would say it was a mark of how much he trusted Lance to look after both Keith and himself, but Keith still felt like he had fallen down on the job, somehow.

A thought occurred to him, and his right hand reached back suddenly to the small of his back. Ah, his bayard was still there, hidden under his long jacket. He hadn't dislodged it or lost it while he was napping. He must have been pretty exhausted, to fall asleep on top of the awkward, lumpy thing in the first place.

"Keith?" Lance was still watching, with a touch of concern now.

Keith offered him a smile, as sincere as he could make it. "I'm fine. What are you doing?"

"Playing." Lance held up the contraption in his hands, and one of the kids in his lap reached up a lazy claw to swipe at it. Lance laughed and held it out of reach. "It's a kind of Sylosian three-dimensional puzzle, see? It's pretty cool. I bet Pidge would love it."

Interested now, Keith scooted closer to watch Lance play with the puzzle. He looked around as he moved, taking in the atmosphere. They were in a different part of the royal gardens now, away from the dueling theater, but he recognized a lot of the Sylosians surrounding them. It seemed to be leisure time, or maybe tutoring. Most of the royal children sat in groups of two or three, looking at holopads or talking quietly, or playing with devices like the one Lance had.

"How does it work?" Keith asked.

"It's kinda like a finger trap, I think." Lance demonstrated, wrapping the boxy contraption around his left wrist, where it locked into place. There were several depressions and grooves in the device where his fingers could press. Even with a cursory inspection, Keith could see that they were made to fit Sylosian digits, not human, but Lance made it work. "The object is to figure out how to free yourself by, like, twisting and turning your hands. I saw some of the chicklings playing with simpler versions and asked if I could try too. Seems to be a common Sylosian toy."

"Hmm." Keith watched as Lance turned his left wrist, pressing the fingers of his right hand into the depressions. He had to use two fingers where a Sylosian would have been able to use just one claw, and his hand wasn't quite big enough to wrap all the way around the device, but he didn't give up.

"It's really cool and interesting. And I bet this is part of Sylosian warrior training, figuring out how to think your way around problems from a young age. And how to pick locks, always a useful skill. Like I said, I think Pidge would like it." Lance chuckled, and Keith had to agree with that assessment.

"Is there a quick way to take it off if you can't figure it out?" Keith asked, worried despite himself. At least Lance had had the sense to not put both wrists into the trap-slash-toy-slash-training-object, but it still seemed dangerous for Lance to have even one hand temporarily out of commission.

"I don't think so." Lance tried a different combination of finger-presses. "The point is to figure out a solution, not let yourself give up partway through. The Sylosians don't seem to like taking the easy way out. Of anything."

Keith thought about fighting an ostensibly friendly duel with razor-sharp weapons that easily drew blood. He nodded. The Sylosians were hardcore. "Can someone else release you then?"

"Maybe. I didn't ask." Lance flashed him a grin. "Worried about me, samurai? Don't be. I can figure this out." He kept working with his right hand. The kid leaning on his back craned farther over his shoulder to watch, eyes sparkling with interest.

Keith crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not worried. I know you can do it."

Lance's grin broadened at that, deeper and softer. He worked on the device with even more precision and creativity. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he hit the right combination, and the trap-slash-toy released with a satisfying click and fell off his wrist to thud down into the grass. The kids cheered. "Ha! Told you I could do it."

"I never doubted that." Keith huffed.

"Ah, the Red Paladin is awake." 

Keith tensed and looked over find Eforan watching them from several yards away. He looked back to Lance, who gave a small smile, meeting Keith’s eyes steadily. _He's cool,_ Lance mouthed, and Keith raised his eyebrows.

He turned his head back to watch as Eforan walked toward them, slow and calm, He had changed out of the form-fitting clothes he'd worn for their duel, now wearing a loose, flowing robe with various decorative embellishments, all in the same shade of crimson as his top feathers. Keith looked him up and down, remembering what Lance had said about how the male Sylosians tended to accessorize and put more emphasis on fashion than the females. Now that he was taking a moment to notice, Keith could see that that was true. Eforan's outfit looked particularly sumptuous and well-tailored. It had no doubt been made especially for him, and it looked crisp and new, too.

At Eforan's approach, the male chickling popped out of Lance's lap and ran over to meet him with a high-pitched shriek, claws lifting and grasping at him. "Big Brother Eforan!"

"Hello, Nian." Eforan laughed and scooped the little one up, then held him on his hip as he completed the journey to their spot on the grass. His cheeks were puffed in a huge Sylosian smile now as he split his attention between the paladins and the little one in his arms, and it softened his image enormously.

Still, Keith kept a wary eye on him as Eforan reached their spot on the grass and gracefully lowered himself to sit with them. "Ah, I see you are trying a wrist-lock puzzle." Eforan held a hand out toward the device resting next to Lance's knee. "Level Four, too! May I?"

Lance nodded and handed it to him, and Nian slipped out of Eforan's grip and knelt beside him on the grass so Eforan could take the puzzle. Eforan's pleased little hum spoke of nostalgia, and he locked the device around one wrist, then released it a single practiced motion. "It took me hours to figure this one out when I was a chickling. I'm impressed you released it so quickly, Paladin Lance."

Lance grinned cheekily. "No sweat. I'm a hero of the universe, you know. Gotta be able to get out of traps and think around obstacles."

Eforan nodded solemnly, but Keith, watching closely, thought he saw displeasure in the dip of Eforan's beak-like mouth. Well, fair enough. Not everyone found Lance's particular brand of braggadocio charming. 

It kind of went in layers, Keith thought. On first impression, if you didn't know Lance at all, his habitual bragging, tempered with good humor and genuine skill, seemed like something natural to the personality of a galaxy-spanning legendary warrior. As you spent more time with him, though, and it just...didn't stop, the continual cockiness started grating on the nerves, until you came to dread every time he opened his mouth. 

Then after you really got to know Lance and realized that everything he did was at least ninety percent an attempt to convince himself that he was going to be okay, it became more like background noise. A part of who he was. A little annoying at times, sure, but understandable and relatable, on the edge of being endearing. And, occasionally, a touch heartbreaking. Keith hoped someday they would get to the deepest layer of all, where Lance wouldn't feel the need to do this anymore, but could be confident in himself without playing up and exaggerating.

So Eforan's reaction could just be because he was on layer two. Or he might really, sincerely dislike Lance, and most likely Keith as well. Could go either way. Yeah, Lance seemed to think the guy was okay, now, but Keith didn't entirely trust it.

"So what's next on the agenda?" Lance asked Eforan. "Everyone seems happy hanging out and doing their own things, but now that Keith is up we can go on with the day."

Eforan nodded smoothly. "Yarian thought you might like to join us in a target-shooting contest. The skills of the Blue Paladin are legendary, and everyone is eager to see them in person."

Lance and Keith exchanged a glance. Lance looked back to Eforan, hesitation in his face. "Uh... What kind of shooting? We saw bows and arrows at the weapons pavilion, but I'm not trained with old-fashioned weapons like that. I hope you understand." He made finger guns and shot them at Eforan with accompanying laser noises, a little self-consciously. "That's more my speed, you know."

Eforan smiled. "Not to worry. The royal palace is well-stocked with modern weapons, as well. I simply thought that the Red Paladin would appreciate a more traditional approach to our duel."

Keith nodded solemnly. "I did. Your collection of weapons is very, very cool."

Lance perked up and looked more interested. "Okay, I'm game. What kind of target-shooting did you have in mind? Like, stationary targets? Is the object pure distance? You guys have a lot of space, it's a freaking palace after all, I bet you've got a pretty wild shooting range. Or maybe even something like moving targets? Is there such a thing as space skeet?"

Keith stared at him, mouth started to hang open a little. He couldn't remember the last time Lance had been this enthusiastic about something, though he was still a touch cautious. It was good to see that light in his eyes again. He was trying to hold himself back, but he was already looking forward to showing off.

No, Keith reminded himself. Not showing off. He'd seen Lance shoot. This was Lance's area of expertise, and even with the near-constant battle their lives had become, he didn't often get a chance to exercise his skills. The majority of Voltron's fights were about brute force and power, not the finesse and precision of a sniper shot. Lance was very, very good at shooting, and he deserved to take pleasure in that.

Eforan's cheeks puffed happily, and his eyes even narrowed a bit in contentment. He was pleased by Lance's excitement, and it should have made Keith trust him more, but instead, for some reason, it set his teeth on edge. "I'm glad you're so willing to take part." He stood gracefully, lifting Nian with him, perched on one hip. The chickling giggled and clung to Eforan's shoulder with one hand. "I'll go tell the others and get the range set up. Follow when you're ready." 

He gave a Keith a look, not challenging, just understanding. He had realized that Keith wanted to have a private word with Lance, and he was giving them room for that. Eforan held out his free hand and clucked his tongue at the two chicklings still draped over Lance, and they leaped to go with him, laughing and grabbing at his hanging arm and the back of his robe.

Keith watched him leave, then looked to Lance. Lance was smiling softly, looking down at the training puzzle again. He felt Keith's eyes on him and looked up, smile going a little wider at the look on Keith's face. "Hey, don't look so worried. I can beat anyone in a sniping contest."

Keith's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about." He looked around, then scooted closer to Lance and leaned in, voice lowering. "What do you think of Eforan? I was out of it after the fight, so I didn't get a chance to watch him. Do you think he was mad? Did I make him into an enemy by beating him the way I did?"

Lance looked at him quizzically for a moment, then grinned again, even wider. "Aw, man, I worried you with all that talk before the duel, didn't I? You were really listening!"

Keith frowned. "Of course I listened. What you were saying was important."

"Holy quiznak, Keith, you're so serious." Lance laughed at that, eyes sparkling. He sat up straighter, beaming in the sunlight with his hands on his knees. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What do you mean? You don't think Eforan was as dangerous a fighter as you thought he might be?"

Lance shook his head. "No, no, not that. He really was serious during the duel. I could tell. He truly did go all out to beat you, and it was dangerous." The smile slowly died, and he lifted a hand to rub his forehead in an unconscious imitation of Keith. "I mean... For real, Keith. You lost blood."

"Not that much," Keith said, trying for a reassuring tone. "And I'm totally fine now. Honest."

"Yeah, okay." Lance shook his head, slow and solemn. “You didn't see it, though, man. I don't know... Eforan almost looked like he wanted to kill you at moments. Even though I _knew_ it was still an exhibition fight... I couldn't help being worried."

Keith sat up straighter and looked into his face. "Then why aren't you worried anymore? What changed after the fight, while I was napping?"

Lance shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but it's like... All of that fell away. As soon as the duel was over and Eforan made his bows, he spun right around and came over to where Princess Mili was putting the salve on your cut, and like... I don't know. He looked real-deal worried and regretful. You were too out of it to know, but he basically hovered over you until we got you under that tree and you fell alseep. Even then, he sat and chatted with me for a while, and he kept looking over to make sure you were still okay. It's just... It's hard to fake concern like that, you get me? I think he's a genuinely good guy."

Keith squinted one eye shut in thought. "So he wasn't angry that I messed up his chance to prove himself?"

Lance pursed his lips. "I don't know, man. I think he's...kinda used to it."

Which bothered Keith in a whole different way, but he didn't know how to express it. Were Lance's observations correct? Or was he extrapolating too much? He had said that Eforan reminded him of himself, and Keith knew well that Lance was a genuinely good person, so maybe Lance was seeing a reflection in Eforan that wasn't truly there.

Argh. This was making his head hurt again. Keith reached up and rubbed it, and Lance's lighthearted demeanor faded even more.

"Hey. Are you really okay? Nothing hurts from the duel? We can go hunt Coran down, get him to check you out. And Blue is always ready if we need to go back to the castle."

Keith shook his head, feeling almost offended. "I've said I'm fine," he snapped. "More than once."

"Whoa, okay." Lance backed off with his hands raised. "Sorry. Didn't mean to insult your honor or whatever."

He looked away, but Keith didn't miss the flash of hurt in his eyes. Keith sighed, shoulders lowering, and looked away, too. At least no one was watching them. Most of the Sylosians had moved off to follow Eforan, presumably to the shooting range to help prepare for the competition, and those who were still waiting, like Princess Mili, seemed to be doing their best to give him and Lance time to talk. 

"Sorry," Keith mumbled, looking back to Lance. "I'm just...not good at this. This diplomacy stuff. Trying to understand people and what they really want when they might be hiding something. It has me on edge."

Lance glanced at him, face still flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my, is Payadin Keet admitting to not being perfect at something?"

The teasing was strained, but Keith would take it. He mustered a half-smile and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think Payadin Yance knows that Keet is not good at a lot of things. I think Yance usually has a long list in his pocket ready to share."

"Yeah, but you usually don't admit it." Lance was relaxing, though, voice no longer strained. "This mission really is bringing out new sides of you, huh?"

"Yeah." Keith smiled as sincerely as he could. "You too. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, honest. I just... It's not as easy for me."

Lance sighed and leaned back on his hands in the grass. "I know. But as long as you're not feeling any bad effects from the duel... What could go wrong at a target-shooting competition? It's not like anyone is going to be shooting at _me._ You can relax, swearsies. At least a little."

"You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right."

Keith shook his head. "I'm just not sure I trust Eforan yet, that's all. I'm glad you do, and I wish I could take your word for it, but... I don't know. Something about him puts my hackles up. And the way you went one-eighty on your opinion of him is throwing me off. You were the first one to be wary, when I wasn't at all, and now that _I'm_ suspicious... Sorry. This feels really weird. I don't know how to fix it."

Lance watched him thoughtfully. "No, this is fine," he said after a long moment. "I know you work more by instinct than by logic, and I know I can trust too easily, sometimes. Either one of us could be right here. Eforan's words and actions could go both ways. Really, I think the thing that's making me the most comfortable with him is how good he is with the chicklings. They all love him to death, and it's hard for me to imagine a bunch of little kids trusting someone who is actually a bad dude. But that's no guarantee that he has good intentions toward outsiders, of course. Plenty of people who are actually pretty rotten can hold themselves together enough to be good to their own families."

"Okay." Keith nodded thoughtfully. "I get where you're coming from. So if either of us could be wrong or right on this one... You want to make a little wager?"

Lance sat up, grinning all over his face again. "Keet," he said, fully teasing now. "Are you trying to turn _diplomacy_ into a _competition?"_

Keith shrugged. "Why not? You like competitions, don't you?"

"You know it." Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, how about this? If I'm right about Eforan, you take my cleaning chores with Coran for a week."

"I thought you like doing chores with Coran."

"I like hanging out with the dude and listening to his stories, even when they don't make sense, sure. That doesn't mean I like scrubbing cryo-pods until my fingers hurt."

Keith chuckled. Fair enough. "Okay, fine. And if I'm right about Eforan, you spar with me anytime I ask for a month. I promise, just an hour each time, and I'll give plenty of break days in between."

Lance made a face. He hated extra training. But if Keith won, he would be sure to at least make the sparring as fun for Lance as possible. The guy needed to work on his hand-to-hand, and Keith and Shiro had been talking about ways to make training easier for him, something he would enjoy doing and feel good about. Too often the formal training with Allura was so deadly serious and fraught with tension that Lance finished it looking exhausted and unhappy with himself and his performance, no matter how steadily he was improving and how much everyone else tried to praise him. He needed the extra training, but no one wanted to force him, either.

But it wasn't in Lance to turn down a wager. Especially not with Keith. He wavered for a moment, then nodded and held out his hand. "Okay. Deal."

Keith reached his hand back in return, expecting a handshake, but Lance turned his hand at the last moment and caught Keith's pinky with his own. He giggled and shook it up and down. "Pinky promise. That's stronger than a shake."

"Okay." Keith sighed and let him do it. Then he looked around and saw Princess Mili still loitering nearby, waiting to escort them to the shooting range. "You ready to go? I'm looking forward to watching you wow all the Sylosians."

"Yeah, absolutely." Lance popped to his feet, inordinately cheerful once more, and Keith rose to follow him. 

If nothing else, this was certainly going to be interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a FANTASTIC Christmas. Traveled to the next state to see my grandparents, my sister had a baby, and I got TWO pieces of absolutely wonderful fanart for the Boom Crash series.
> 
> [Lance and a tiny Sylosian](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/155187897721/eastofthemoon-decided-to-do-some-art-based-off-of)
> 
> [Blue is helping](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/155137963766/bajillionkittens-these-are-a-few-of-my-favorite)

The Sylosian shooting range was not so much a range. It wasn't much like any shooting range Keith had ever seen. When Princess Mili led them to the area, then came to a decisive stop, Lance and Keith both stumbled to a halt beside her and stared around in confusion.

"Wait...are we there?" Lance asked.

Mili nodded cheerfully. "This is the royal target-shooting course. There is no finer in all of Sylose."

"I don't doubt that," Keith said slowly. "But this looks an awful lot like...a forest."

"That's because it is." That was Eforan, stepping out from a path between a couple of large deciduous trees. He was carrying a pair of long guns slung low in his arms, looking like a cross between a rifle and shotgun, built for both distance and power. He headed straight to Lance and held one out for him to take.

Lance extended his hands, eyes wide with awe, and accepted the gun across both palms. He looked around at the trees, then looked to Eforan. "What kind of target-shooting is this?"

"The traditional kind." Eforan looked away into the forest, pride in his stance, the way he held his head. "We Sylosians are descended from hunters. But we were not the kind of hunters to swoop from the sky and attack in clear view of all. Those were our predators, whom we outsmarted, outlived, and out-evolved. No, we were, and still are, ambush predators."

"We hide," Mili said, as solemn and proud as her brother. "We move. We defend. And when the time is right, we attack."

Lance nodded slowly. He hefted the gun in his hands and held it angled down at the ground, pointing away from everyone as he sighted down the barrel. Like Keith giving a sword a few test swings, he was familiarizing himself with the equipment. "I get it. So you perfected...guerilla tactics. At least, that's what we call it back on my home planet. When your force is small and greatly outnumbered, the best strategy is to lie in wait and employ trickery and guile to aid you. The nations on Earth eventually grew powerful enough to destroy the entire planet, though thankfully they didn't. But the hardest enemies to fight weren't the big armies that met on the fields or the sea or in the air. It was the small armies, the guerilla forces, that hid in the jungles and the villages and the deserts, blending in with their surroundings and attacking only when circumstances favored them."

"That's a good description." Eforan's voice was pleased. "Only attacking when circumstances favor you, yes. That is the best way to win. And since the paladins of Voltron are warriors, you must know that intensive training is the best way to turn circumstances in your favor long before the battle begins."

It was Keith's turn to nod. "Oh yeah. We train like crazy when we're not, you know, fighting for our lives."

"Or recovering from the latest fiasco," Lance said cheerfully, which made Keith look at him with narrow eyes. Considering the leagues and leagues of hell that Lance had been through in said "fiascos," Keith didn't understand how he could be cheerful about it now. 

Lance was truly, deeply weird sometimes.

"So where are the targets?" Lance asked, shading his eyes and peering into the woods.

"I'll show you what they look like." Eforan led the way into the trees, and the rest followed him. 

Not far away from the edge of the woods, Eforan paused and pointed at a tree. On the trunk was a target made of concentric red and yellow rectangles. The target looked like it had been struck many times by a variety of weapons. Keith saw energy burns, something like bullet marks, and small slashes that could have been left by arrows or throwing knives.

Keith looked around. The woods were well-tended, nothing like the chaotic litter of a truly old forest, where it would be almost impossible to walk because of the overgrown bracken and fallen branches and trunks. There wasn't exactly a path, nothing marked out with signs or any tracks worn down to dirt. But someone, or a lot of someones, had clearly spent a lot of time keeping the forest floor clear of obstructions. If Keith had had the urge, he could have taken off and jogged in any direction for as far as he wanted to go.

"Okay," Lance said, voice thoughtful. "I think I understand. Instead of standing at one end of a range and shooting from a distance, this kind of competition involves...what. Running through the trees, trying to hit as many targets as possible? Or do you, like, ride horses or something?" His voice rose in excitement at that, and Keith refrained from rolling his eyes. Here was another thing to feed into Lance's medieval knight-in-shining-armor fantasies.

But he couldn't begrudge the pleasure and eagerness lighting up Lance's face. As much as Keith had been out of his mind at the idea of getting to _duel_ with _swords,_ Lance was mad for this opportunity, too. And that was a good thing. Had to be, right?

Eforan tilted his head in a way that managed to convey something like a half-smile. "I don't know what horses are, but yes, for this competition we will be using vehicles."

He turned around and led the way out of the woods again, back toward a long, shed-like building Keith hadn't noticed before. Now he saw the Sylosians milling about the building, some talking to each other in small groups, others holding guns like Eforan and Lance's, and others bringing out...

"Is that a hoverbike?" Keith asked, his own excitement starting to rise. He and Lance shared a wide-eyes look, and Princess Mili laughed in response.

"We call them ground-flyers. If this was normal training, we might go through the course on foot, but this is for fun. Going fast is fun."

"Holy quiznak," Lance breathed, his feet speeding up. Keith wasn't far behind him. 

They halted at the nearest ground-flyer, staring at it with round eyes as Eforan and Mili moved up beside them. It did remind Keith of his hoverbike back on Earth, in function if not in design. The vehicle was clearly built for speed, with smooth lines and powerful engines built into the back, but the interior had two seats. It was like a streamlined racecar, or a fighter jet on the ground. Room for a pilot and room for a gunner.

Keith looked up at Mili, fierceness surging in his heart. "I'll drive for Lance."

She nodded solemnly. "We expected nothing else." She gestured beside them, where Eforan and Yarian were checking over their own ground-flyer. Eforan had handed his gun over to another young Sylosian nearby while he bent down to inspect the vehicle's undercarriage.

The sight was enough to restrain Keith's eagerness. He paused, frowning suddenly, and looked back to Mili. "Wait. Is Eforan a marksman as well as a duelist? He'll be opposing Lance as well as me?"

Mili's eyebrow ridge rose. "Actually, Yarian is the more skilled marksman between those two. Eforan will drive." She looked at Lance. "Or would you rather compete with Eforan? I can ask them to switch, if you request it."

"Heck no," Lance burst out. He was almost vibrating with eagerness now, fingers tightening around his gun. "I wanna shoot against the best you have. Never doubt it."

Mili's cheeks puffed. "I did not doubt."

Lance looked around. "Are other folks going to shoot, too?" Indeed, there seemed to be several other ground-flyers being taken out of the shed and tuned up. 

"Yes. Several of my nest-mates and peer-siblings are skilled snipers and wish to join the contest."

"Okay, cool." Lance nodded decisively. "The more the merrier."

Keith looked away to the forest, then back to Mili. "Wait a second. You all have obviously been training in this kind of shooting for a long time. Will it be really be fair to score Lance's first run against those who have fought in the same course for years?"

Mili gave a pleased hum. "You think like a canny warrior, Red Paladin. As expected. No, that would not be fair. But what makes you think the course is always the same? This range wouldn't be much good for training in ambush and stealth if we always knew where the enemies would be."

"Oh, I see," Lance said. "The targets are moveable."

"Indeed. Part of the preparation for this competition required rearranging everything that can be rearranged. Of course, the placement of the trees and other natural obstacles will remain the same, so Paladin Lance is at a slight disadvantage, not being familiar with our palace grounds. But it might not matter as much as you think. There is no set path through the forest. Each gunner and driver will have to choose where to go, and there is no guarantee that their route will have the same number of targets as those taken by their competitors. Or that the targets will be easy to hit. Or even possible. And each pair will go through the shooting range once only. True battle does not allow do-overs, after all."

Lance hummed. "Yeah, okay. Totally makes sense." He stared away into the woods, his gaze far away, his face concentrated. He was preparing himself, settling in for a long fight just the way Keith had done before his duel with Eforan. "I presume that shots close to the center of the target are better than shots on the edge, but what other criteria are we going for? Is speed a factor?"

"Yes," Mili said simply. "Faster is better. Be fast, be precise. That is the heart of winning in marksmanship."

Sylosians certainly did like to get to the heart of things.

Lance looked to Keith, his face completely serious. "I'll be counting on you, then. Drive fast. Don't stop or slow down if I mess up. Just trust me to make the shot and keep going."

Keith nodded. "Of course."

Lance looked to Mili. "How will the scoring be done? It's not like a long-distance range where you can take a shot, take time to measure it carefully, then go on. Will there be judges or something following in separate vehicles?"

"Not quite. Each ground-flyer and each weapon is equipped with a camera and a scanner with highly attuned measuring equipment. The scoring is done by computer. Less subjective that way."

Lance nodded. He seemed pleased, but all Keith could think was that if Pidge was here, she would _definitely_ hack the computer and give them a perfect score, whether or not it was deserved. Lance wouldn't like that, though. He wanted to earn his wins.

Keith was behind him all the way on that one.

It was good enough for Lance. He was already vibrating with anticipation, grinning all over his face. He set his gun in the ground-flyer, then slung his leg over the side to climb into the back seat. Halfway up he paused and looked back at Keith. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Keith chuckled, then looked to Mili. His arms were crossed over his chest in an attempt at nonchalance, but he was only barely holding himself from bolting into the gound-flyer. "Can we take a practice spin around the building before we head off into the woods?"

"Of course. Take your time familiarizing yourselves with the equipment. When you're both ready, let me know, and I'll set up your run. There will be a gap between the competitors' start times to prevent any mishaps in the woods."

Made sense. Keith nodded, then hopped into the pilot seat ahead of Lance. He heard Lance settling behind him, figuring out the best angles. Keith studied the controls in front of him. They weren't dissimilar from his hoverbike back home, though the steering yoke was built thick and heavy for Sylosian hands. Mili moved over and leaned against the side of the vehicle while she talked him through the various controls, making sure he understood how each one worked. Keith nodded along, though he was barely paying attention. It was all pretty intuitive. He wanted to _go._

Finally, she stepped back and waved a hand, giving permission for them to take off. Without hesitation, Keith gunned the throttle. Lance whooped in joy as they took off, tearing away down the strip of land between the ground-flyer shed and the edge of the forest. Keith settled his hands on the steering yoke, goosing it gently this way and that to get a feel for the sensitivity. At the corner of the building, he turned fast and hard, and both he and Lance leaned into the turn without discussion. 

It felt good. Felt right.

They made a couple of laps around the building, then came to a stop in front of Mili again. Lance was almost bouncing in his seat, holding his gun in both hands pointed toward the sky. "Is there something safe I can shoot at for a few practice shots?"

Mili gestured grandly toward the forest. "Pick a tree. It won't count for the contest. As I said, let me know when you're ready, and we'll send you out."

Some pairs had already taken off into the forest. There were definitely fewer folks hanging around with ground-flyers than there had been earlier. Yarian and Eforan still stood by their ground-flyer, watching Keith and Lance with puffed cheeks. Keith couldn't tell if the two princes were genuinely pleased with them as worthy competitors, or if they were amused by their childish excitement. Either way, didn't really matter. He and Lance were going to blow them out of the water with their score.

Keith heard distant cheering, sounded like it was coming from the other side of the woods. That must be where the audience was, probably watching the competitors' runs on holoscreens. They would finish their course on that side, then.

Lance poked the back of Keith's shoulder with one finger. "Take me to the trees, Alfred."

Keith squinted back at him over his shoulder. "Alfred is a butler, not a chauffeur."

Lance rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you understood that reference."

Keith was faintly offended. "Of course I know Batman. Everyone loves Batman."

"Okay then. Take me to the trees, garcon." 

"That's a French waiter."

"Whatever!" Lance was literally bouncing up and down now. "Just _go!"_

Keith laughed and went. At the edge of the forest, he didn't stop, though he was aware of Lance starting to get up into a crouch behind him, aiming at a random tree. Instead, he turned sharply and continued racing along the edge of the trees. Lance yelped and fell back on his butt, then got up again. 

"Okay, good plan!" he yelled over the sound of their speed. "Better practice if you keep driving!"

Keith grinned and continued, just gunning the throttle in response. Watching ahead, he saw a bolt of energy fly from Lance's gun and strike a tree. He had no doubt that it was exactly where Lance had been aiming.

They ran to the end of the forest, almost running into the sheer cliff that surrounded the palace gardens, then spun in a donut and headed back the way they'd come. Lance kept shooting, yelling his pleasure with the "awesome" weapon in his hands, and Keith kept testing the ground-flyer's controls. Eventually, Keith was satisfied, and he could sense that Lance was done with his own practice too. They were ready for the real thing.

They were second to last to go. Only Eforan and Yarian were still waiting. Keith came to a stop next to Princess Mili and gave her a nod, not bothering to speak over the revving of the ground-flyer’s engine. She nodded in return, then looked down at a pad in her hands and inputed some data with a swift clicking of her claws. Keith waited as patiently as he could.

Eventually, Mili finished her set-up. She looked at Keith and held up a closed fist. "On my mark."

He nodded, already looking forward to the forest to choose his entrance point, just watching her with his peripheral vision. He was going to give Lance the _most_ targets to shoot at. A few steady ticks, feeling almost like a countdown, and Mili's fist opened wide in the Sylosian "go" signal.

Keith went. The roar of the engine, the wind in his hair, Lance yelling behind him. It felt amazing, speed and freedom and a competition he and Lance were born to win. Keith's world narrowed down to nothing but the ship beneath him, the controls in his hands, the comrade at his back, the path ahead of him.

Only much, much later did it occur to him that it might not have been the best idea to have Eforan and Yarian behind them, where he and Lance couldn't even see what they were doing.


	6. Chapter 6

It was exhilarating. Magnificent. Keith fell into the sensation of speed, of weightlessness still bound to the planet beneath him. Of flight. Nothing could beat flying the red lion. Not in a million years. But this was the closest Keith had ever gotten with any other vehicle. It was even better than racing his hoverbike through the desert canyons back on Earth.

Maybe it was the palpable sense of danger that made it so. They were speeding through a forest, trees flying by on either side. The forest was not overgrown and dense, but neither was it just a few trees here and there, easy to navigate. Keith relied on his instincts to guide him, fingers twitching minutely this way and that to guide him around the boulders and tree trunks. It was like flying through a jumbled mess of asteroids, except this time he didn't have the bulk of a mechanical lion to protect him from bumps and scrapes. If he clipped an obstacle now, even lightly, he and Lance were going to spin out and crash disastrously.

His head was up, gaze focused far forward as he looked beyond the current path to what was beyond, trying to divine which route to take in order to give Lance the largest possible concentration of targets to shoot at. The targets were wretchedly small and not brightly colored, which made it difficult to spot them, and his attention was split between looking ahead and preventing an immediate crash. Still, he did his best.

He was also conscious throughout that they were on a time limit. He wasn't sure exactly how speed factored into the scoring in this competition, but he was determined to give Lance every advantage. If he took corners a little too sharp, didn't give enough leeway between the side of the ground-flyer and the trees, well, Lance didn't object.

Lance was hunkered down, too. There had been some initial hooting and hollering, but once they hit the trees, he had gone eerily silent. Even in battle, Lance had a tendency to yell and emote and be his extroverted, expressive self, but not right now. Keith couldn't see him, couldn't hear his breath over the sound of the wind. But he knew Lance was focused and steady. His eyes would be bright and wide open, hands tight on the gun, face set in concentration as he shot, and shot, and shot.

That, Keith could hear. The gun was loud enough to sound over the wind. He also occasionally saw the energy bolt flying out in front of them to hit a target, one Keith had steered them toward just seconds before. It was amazing. Every successful hit made him want to jump and cheer. But all he could do was grin, wide and happy. So he did.

All too quickly, it was over. The light ahead grew brighter and brighter, and they burst out of the trees into a long track. Keith braked a little too hard, and the ground-flyer spun sideways as they slowed, both Keith and Lance leaning into it without thought. They slid to a halt directly in front of another stand full of Sylosians, most of whom were on their feet, yelling and cheering and clapping with all of the vim that Keith had wanted to display himself.

Keith panted, inexplicably breathless, and raised his head to look up. Sure enough, there were a couple of big holo-screens hovering in the air, now showing a four-way split view. One perspective was from the front of their ground-flyer, another was Lance's gun, and the others were views through the trees that kept switching to different cameras. The screens were replaying their run, and Keith watched for a moment, transfixed.

Behind him, Lance stood up in the ground-flyer, raised both fists high in the air, and yelled.

The Sylosians yelled back. Keith switched to staring at the crowd, eyes going wide. They were really, _really_ excited. Even more than they'd been during his and Eforan's duel.

"Keith, Keith." Lance pawed at his shoulder. "You stand up too. Get up! They want to cheer for you."

Keith stood up, and at Lance's urging, he raised his fists in the air as well. The crowd yelled all the harder. Keith withstood it for a few seconds, then sat down. "We gotta get out of the way," he told Lance, looking up at him still standing there waving his arms. "Eforan and Yarian are coming."

"Oh yeah." Lance sat down before Keith hitting the throttle would have thrown him down, and they cleared the brakeway.

Keith parked the ground-flyer over with a line of them off the track, and the two made their way back to the stands. By that point, Eforan and Yarian's run through the forest was being broadcast on the screen, and Keith and Lance stood still for a bit and watched it. Only then did it occur to Keith that having those two come behind them might not have been the best idea, but it did look like their runs had been separated with enough time to avoid any contact.

Still, a shiver ran up his back, just at the thought of Eforan behind Keith and Lance with a powerful vehicle, his brother holding a gun. Yeah, nothing had happened, but it _could_ have. Okay, and maybe it would have been stupid of them to try anything while they were being recorded with multiple cameras, but still...

On second thought, maybe Keith was being paranoid. Maybe Lance had the right idea, and he should let go of his early suspicions. Keith watched Yarian take out several targets, then looked sideways to Lance's face. Lance was watching avidly, a big grin on his face, eyes still sparkling with pleasure from their own run through the target range. On the screen, Yarian made a particularly difficult shot, and Lance raised his hands in the air and yelled and clapped, the rest of the crowd cheering right along with him.

Keith shook his head and looked at the ground, a small smile appearing. Lance was definitely better at this than he was. He seemed completely at home in the Sylosian culture, making friends left and right, while Keith was still stuck on a silly fear that he couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. He looked up and sighed, then wrapped a hand around Lance's forearm and tugged him gently toward the stands.

"Come on, let's find a place to sit."

Lance finally looked away from the screen, and he led them confidently to a place in the stands, calling out the names of several of the Sylosians sitting there as they went. The Sylosians greeted Lance and Keith with pleasure, and they found a place to sit and watch the rest of Eforan and Yarian's run. Keith noticed a scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen and nudged Lance's arm to draw his attention to it.

Lance nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's the running score. It's in Sylosian so I can't read it, though." He turned to the princess next to them, a tall beefy lady with pale blue facial feathers and a dark brown headcrest. "Hey, Princess Renna, can you tell me who's in the top spot right now?"

Rena's cheeks puffed, and she laughed and clapped his back hard enough that Lance doubled over with a startled cough. "You are!" she cried, as delighted as if she had done it herself. "Paladins Red and Blue! But Eforan and Yarian are giving you a fight for your nest-spot, that is certain."

Lance laughed back and turned to watch the screen, and Keith did too, his hands clenched at his sides.

He wanted to win. Mostly for Lance's sake, but for his own, too. Beating Eforan at swordfighting had been fantastic, thrilling and satisfying and a lot of other words that Keith couldn't think of right now with his brain still buzzing with adrenalin. It would be even better, though, if Keith could help Lance earn this vindication. Lance had been through a lot in the last few months, way too much pain and turmoil. He deserved a win, deserved a chance not only to show his skill and enjoy himself, but to come out on top in an elite competition against worthy opponents.

And Eforan and Yarian were certainly proving themselves to be worthy opponents. Keith didn't understand the Sylosian language, but they used the same alphabet the Galra did, and all of the paladins had at least picked up the digits so they could navigate Galra ships better. Keith could see the princes' score stacking up, and with Renna's help, he could see his and Lance's score in the scrolling ticker, too. It was higher than Eforan and Yarian's, but the princes’ score was still rising, getting closer and closer.

Then the ground-flyer burst through the trees. Yarian was standing in the back, holding his gun in both hands, but he sat as Eforan closed the distance to the stands. The crowd roared in greeting, but Keith was staring at the screen.

The score had approached, but it hadn't met. Their score was still lower. Keith and Lance had won. He couldn't quite believe it, kept waiting for the numbers to change.

"Keith, Keith!" Lance was gripping his upper arm with both hands, shaking him back and forth. His voice was sky-high with excitement. "We won, we won! Can you believe it?"

Keith looked up at him, wide-eyed, and Lance hauled him to his feet, then dragged him down in front of the stands to bow to the crowd. It was a bit surreal, but Lance was eating it up, so Keith just followed his lead. Even Eforan and Yarian came over to congratulate them, and Keith accepted their hand clasps and shoulder pats with as much grace as he could. (Were handshakes a universal gesture? Or were the Sylosians adopting their body language for the moment? Either way, all Keith could do was accept.)

Then the other drivers and gunners came down from the stands, and everyone else followed, and the party atmosphere increased. To his surprise, everyone seemed to want to congratulate Keith for both this win and his earlier one. He was hand-clasped and patted on the back by a procession of Sylosians, all of whom Lance thanked by name, or at least it seemed so to Keith. Lance probably didn’t _actually_ know the names of every single person in the palace, but it seemed like he did.

Keith forgot every name as soon as it was said, but it didn't matter. Lance remembered, and the Sylosians hung on his every word as if it was made of gold. Or some other substance precious to their culture, perhaps. They touched him and congratulated him even more enthusiastically than they had Keith. Maybe shooting was more highly prized among the Sylosians than piloting or swordfighting. That would be fine with Keith. Lance soaked it all in, as he very much deserved to.

Afterward, it was time for midday meal. Some of the energy dispersed as the royal children and their retainers split off in different directions. Of course they couldn't all fit into the same dining hall. There were far too many. Princess Mili found Keith and Lance through the crowd before they could wonder where to go, beaming her congratulations as well, and took their hands to lead them back toward the palace.

Lance and Keith followed, Lance chattering happily about the competition and how fun it had been while Keith nodded along, amiable as could be. Mili seemed to be leading them somewhere in particular, and Keith entertained some hope that they were going to join up with the rest of the Voltron crew for the meal, but she ended up escorting them to small pavilion not far from the kitchen area where many of the older princes and princesses were eating.

Lance asked after Allura and the others before Keith could think to, and Mili assured them that they would all be well-fed, and they would all join together for a feast in the evening. That seemed to satisfy Lance, though Keith would have preferred to see the others earlier. He hoped Coran and Hunk were at least having fun with the Sylosian tech guys, but Shiro and Pidge were probably bored and restless by now. Not that Keith wanted to take their place or anything. He was perfectly fine hanging out with Lance and having fun fighting and shooting stuff.

Mili set them down at a table in the corner where several royal children were already seated, waiting for the meal to begin. Lance greeted a couple of them by name and asked the others to introduce themselves and was soon chatting happily away. Servants or pages or whatever (Keith didn't know the proper nomenclature) brought out some platters of food and set them down in front of them, and after that Keith couldn't pay much attention to the talk. 

He was _starving._ He couldn't stop looking at the food. He didn't know if they were allowed to eat yet, if there was supposed to be some kind of announcement or blessing or whatever. His hands rested on either side of his plate, fingers twitching in eagerness to grab whatever that delicious-looking meat cube was.

Lance noticed and looked over at him with a knowing smile. "Hungry, dude? Princess Yazia said that might be another side-effect of the salve."

Keith blinked at him, slow and deliberate. Why hadn't Lance mentioned this earlier? "Any other side-effects I should know about?"

Lance shrugged. "Not that I know of. You're okay, right? You kept saying you were fine."

Keith frowned. "Yeah. I'm fine." He switched back to staring at the food. He was usually a little wary of eating things he didn't recognize (cans and boxes were great, he'd gotten along fine in the desert), but right now he was so hungry that he didn't care. 

"All are assembled!" Mili called from a central table where she stood with her hands spread. "All may partake!"

Ah, that seemed to be the signal. The Sylosians around them started reaching for the food immediately, and Keith and Lance moved to match them. Following the examples around them, they used utensils that looked like giant, oddly shaped forks to shovel food from the serving platters onto their personal plates, then started eating with their hands. There was no silverware, and all of the food was in bite-sized pieces. Looking around, Keith could see that the Sylosians used their extended claws to stab their food and bring it to their mouths, but no one seemed to think it was rude when the paladins just used their fingers to pick it up.

Keith ate several cubes of mottled pink and white that tasted like a cross between watermelon and tuna sashimi, then tried some orange chunks that were fruity and cooling. Someone filled a cup for him, and he expected water, but when he drank it, there was a citrusy, minty tang that refreshed his palate. He tried another dish, gelatinous orbs dusted with green dust that bore a strong resemblance to some kind of jellied pistachio. Everything was tasty and satisfying.

"This is good, huh?" Lance asked at one point, speaking around a bite of food he'd chipmunked in one cheek. "Man, I bet Hunk is having a field day. Whoever he's eating with is probably having to answer, like, a million questions about where the ingredients come from and how they're prepared."

Keith nodded, smiling fondly at the image. He wished Hunk was with them now, but they would just have to ask him for his thoughts at the end of the day. "I bet Shiro is enjoying this meat cube thing."

"Yeah, and Pidge probably likes these brown wafer cookies. They're a little nutty. Not quite like peanut butter, but I think it's the closest we've found yet."

Toward the end of the meal, everyone began to slow down. Keith looked around, wondering at the change. Some Sylosians were still eating, but others had backed off into corners with couches or cushions on the edges of the room. Some were lying down or slouching with their backs against the walls. Some were still at the table, leaning on each other drowsily. Almost none were alone; most were in groups of two or three. But folks were definitely starting to nod off, and it seemed to be a normal and expected post-meal activity. Did the Sylosians have naptimes?

Lance saw him looking and gave him a smile. "Ah, okay. Yeah, should have mentioned. While you were asleep, Mili joked about how you were taking your midday rest early. I guess the Sylosians have a siesta built into their schedule."

"Okay." Keith frowned. "What are we supposed to do while everyone's napping?"

"Whatever we want?" Lance shrugged. "Not everyone will sleep, apparently. Some prefer to take their rest later in the afternoon. If you're tired from your wound, though, feel free to lie down. I'll keep watch, I don't mind."

Keith shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Do you need a nap?"

"Nah. I'm still wired from winning the shooting contest."

Keith looked around. Mili was still up, as bright-eyed as ever, and also... Eforan.

The prince seemed to feel them watching him and looked over. He stood straight and gave them a gentle nod, then moved over to their table. His cheeks were lightly puffed in a friendly greeting, and his body language was completely open. He didn't hesitate to sit across from them, either, his eyes bright and unashamed. He really did seem to be over his loss. Both of them.

"Greetings, Paladins," he said amiably. "Did you enjoy the meal?"

"Very much." Lance nodded grandly. "Everything was super good. What's the plan, man? You take your naptime later in the day?"

Eforan chuckled softly. "Indeed. I understand humans do not need a midday rest?"

"Not really. Some cultures back on Earth keep, like, a midday downtime. But that hasn't been our schedule with the Alteans at all. When we even have a schedule and aren't too busy flying around defending the universe and stuff."

Eforan nodded. "In that case, I thought you might like a tour of another portion of the palace gardens, one we haven't visited yet."

Keith's forehead furrowed. "Just you? You want to give the two of us a tour?"

"Indeed." Eforan looked at Lance. "The Blue Paladin is the guardian of water, yes? I know your castle in the sky must visit many strange planets, so you have probably seen all kinds of beautiful sights. Oceans and waterfalls, rivers and seas. But we have a very lovely body of water here on the palace grounds. The Mirror Lake, it is called. I thought you might be interested."

Lance's eyes lit up. It was true that they visited a lot of planets, but lately few of them had had any water. It seemed to be all deserts and prairies and barren rocks, for whatever reason. Lance never said anything, but Keith knew that he missed Earth's oceans with an ache that never went away, and he was always a little disappointed when they visited a new place and there was nothing to remind him of home.

Lance tried to hold himself back. His hands curled loosely on the table, and then he hid him in his lap. Still, he couldn't help leaning forward, his eyes sparkling. "Uh, yeah. That would be great." He looked at Keith, eyebrows raised. "Keith? Would that be okay? We don't have to."

 _We'll stay here if you want to,_ Lance didn't say. He was giving Keith veto power, because he knew he still didn't trust Eforan.

Keith pressed his lips together. He stared into Eforan's face, trying to read him. Everything he could see told him that this was just a guy. A prince, a fighter, someone with ambitions and plans that sometimes fell through. But there was no obvious marker of hatred on him, no sign of vengeance-seeking. Not that Keith really knew what that looked like, anyway.

But he could feel Lance, next to him, all but trembling in anticipation. He wanted to see the Mirror Lake. He really, really did. If Keith said no, he wouldn't go, and he would tuck his disappointment away as firmly as possible. But Keith would still know that he'd taken something away from him for no real, true reason.

Well, he would just have to go with them and make sure nothing bad happened then.

Keith nodded. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Lance lifted a fist and brought it down sharply to his chest. "Yes!" He was beaming, and Keith couldn't help but smile, too. Eforan laughed, then stood up to lead the way. Lance scrambled to his feet and trotted to catch up to him, falling in at his side and asking how far the lake was, how long it would take to walk there.

All Keith could do was follow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably tired of hearing me apologize for taking so long with these chapters, so hey, here's another one. Season 2 happened and I wrote about 14k of fic because I had to, haha. And there are like five more stories in my head fighting to get out.
> 
> I expect I'll finish this one soon, though. We're on the end run.
> 
>  ** _If you have psychological triggers, please see the end note._** If you don't, please refrain. It's a spoiler.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Mirror Lake was in a secluded corner of the palace grounds. It took them a good fifteen minutes to walk there, not quite a mile by Keith's reckoning. They didn't see anyone else on the journey there, everyone apparently down for their naps or rests or whatever, or at least staying out of the midday sun. 

On the way, Eforan told the history of the lake and why it was a particular pride to the Sylosians. Back in the ancient times, apparently, wide open bodies of water had been a dangerous place for their species, for while they were forced to go out on the water to catch fish or other small prey, their own predators could swoop on them from above and take them without warning. But now they had vanquished their predators and claimed dominance of the planet, and having a large body of water in the place where their rulers raised their children meant that they were utterly safe, utterly secure.

More, the lake wasn't even necessary for food anymore. Certainly, some royals enjoyed fishing here or doing other recreational activities (Eforan didn't go into what those were, but apparently the Sylosians were not great swimmers), but the greatest purpose the lake served was ornamental. It was decoration. A place of beauty.

And yeah, put like that, keeping a place that used to mean danger and death as the real estate equivalent of a trinket was pretty awesome, Keith had to admit to himself.

Once they arrived, the reason why the lake was considered both a planetary pride and a point of beauty became obvious. The lake was huge, spreading over tens of acres at least, and immensely still and placid. It was surrounded with large, beautiful trees, all reflected perfectly in the water as if it were, well, a mirror. Walkways made of something like concrete had been built out into the water, leading to a square platform where visitors could stand in the middle and be surrounded by water. That was where Eforan led them, after a brief pause to let them take it in.

Lance fell in love at first sight, that was obvious. Once the full lake came into view, he halted, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. If he'd sparkled at the sight of that gun, he was sparkling ten times over now. And then he was gushing. "It's _beautiful._ Holy quiznak, it's _gorgeous."_ Eforan was already moving toward the platform at that point, and Lance trotted to catch up, Keith at his side.

"Yeah, it's true that I've seen lots of cool stuff as a paladin of Voltron," Lance said. "Whole worlds made of water and ice, sure thing, and waterfalls that looked like rainbows and rivers that looked like oil slicks. But yeah, this is great, Prince Eforan, wow. Thank you so much for thinking of bringing me here."

"You are most welcome, Paladin Lance," Eforan said warmly. They had reached the platform out on the water, and he stood there gazing over the lake with puffed cheeks. "It was my pleasure to bring you here."

Lance pranced right to the edge of the platform and stared down at the water, eyes still wide, smile beaming. "Holy crow, this water is clear as glass. Look, Keith! You can see all the way to the bottom!" He looked at Eforan. "How deep is it?"

Eforan gave a measurement that didn't translate to either Altean or English. Lance frowned. "Okay, that wasn't helpful. Could, like, my lion fit in it without sticking out?"

Eforan laughed. "Yes, with room to spare."

"Okay, that's deep." Lance went back to staring down into the apparently crystal-clear depths. "Keith, there are fish!"

Keith approached much more slowly and reluctantly, despite Lance's hand waving for him to join him. Keith could hold his own in water, but he wasn't the strongest swimmer. Being surrounded by the stuff, apparently quite deep, was making him a little nervous. Not enough to regret coming, but enough to make him even more cautious.

Lance picked it up. He straightened and looked back at Keith, laughing. "What'samatter? Scared of a little water?"

"This isn't a little water," Keith grumbled. "This is a lot of water."

"Yeah, but it's really _pretty_ water, man. Come look at the fish!"

Keith stood back several paces and shook his head. "I'm okay here."

"Oh, c'mon. I'm not gonna push you in. I mean, not gonna lie, if we were at a pool or something and planning on swimming I probably would. In good fun. But we're wearing our fancy Altean clothes and everything. No pranks, I promise."

"I believe you," Keith said primly. "I'd still rather not."

Lance pouted, but seemed content to look down at the water alone, occasionally exclaiming to himself about "all the fish" and "so clear, holy wow, it's like the water isn't even _there."_

Eforan let him have his fun for a while, then gently cleared his throat. "Ah, Paladin Lance, there is something in particular I wanted to show you."

"Oh, really?" Lance straightened up from his contemplation of the water and turned to face him, expression open and eager. "What is it?"

Eforan withdrew an object he had been hiding in the folds of his sleeves. "This."

Lance eyebrows bent, and he came a little closer, head tilting. "A wrist lock puzzle? Why did you want to show it to me here? You could have done that back at lunch."

"Because of this." Eforan moved like a striking snake. In one smooth motion he had surged forward and locked both of Lance's wrists into the puzzle before he could react. Then he pushed him into the lake.

Lance was too startled even to yell, though Keith dearly hoped that he'd at least had a chance to draw a breath. He hit the water with a mighty splash and disappeared, and Keith barrelled to the edge of the platform and fell to his knees, staring terrified into the water and screaming at the top of his lungs. "Lance! Lance!"

The water was, indeed, crystal clear. Keith saw Lance with extreme clarity, struggling with the puzzle, wrapped in the flowing fabric of his impractical robes. He was sinking fast, and the bottom was far, far down. Keith jumped to his feet and faced Eforan, breathing hard. His bayard was in his hand and activated. He didn't remember doing that. 

He pointed the tip of the blade at the prince's throat. "Why?" he roared. "Why did you do that?"

Eforan watched him coldly, eyes narrowed, face still. "To see what would happen."

Keith's mind reeled. This made no sense. He wanted to stab Eforan through the throat. He wanted to punch him into the water. Neither of those actions would bring Lance back.

He stared down into the lake again, blade unwavering at Eforan's neck. "Bring him back!" 

"I do not swim," Eforan said. "If you want him, you'll have to get him yourself."

Keith stared at him, panting, eyes so wide they hurt. He'd never had lifeguard training. He could barely take care of himself in water, let alone someone else. But Eforan stood there, cool and calm and still, and Keith had no options.

They were too far away to call for help, too far for anyone else to come in time. Keith could hear the rumble of Blue’s engine over the horizon, but even she… Lance loved the water, but he was afraid of not being able to breathe. He had a phobia, as a matter of fact. A perfectly reasonable, understandable phobia, considering what he’d been through, but it was not helpful to his well-being. Now, he’d been thrown into the water with no warning, no time to prepare, not even a few seconds to work up his courage. He was down there, trapped and struggling, and he was probably already panicking. If he was panicking, he was already breathing in water. He had seconds, not minutes. And only Keith could do anything about it.

Keith let out a strangled noise of frustration. He tossed his bayard aside and didn't even watch as it reverted. He stripped off the heavy formal jacket, leaving him in a light shirt and trousers. He didn’t have time to pull off the tight, laced-up boots. He turned and dove into the water.

He could see Lance below him, no longer struggling. He was almost still in the water, and Keith couldn't see any bubbles or anything. Was he already...? Panic jammed Keith's throat, and he swam more frantically, propelling himself through the water with the most powerful strokes he could manage. A school of fish between he and Lance darted out of the way, and he noted abstractly that they were, indeed, very lovely. He should have looked at them when Lance asked.

He reached Lance and manuevered to face him, reaching out to grab his shoulders. Lance's eyes were closed, his expression almost serene, but at the touch his eyes flew open and some bubbles escaped his mouth. Fear flashed across his face, then disappeared when he recognized Keith. Movement caught Keith's eye, and he looked down and saw that Lance's hands were working on the wrist puzzle, much more calmly than Keith might have expected. It was hard to tell, but his hands might be shaking.

Keith pulled Lance closer and wove an arm around his chest, then started stroking for the surface. Lance kicked too, a bit feebly, his body almost limp in Keith's grasp. Keith couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, if he was able to control his body or if he'd completely checked out. At least he wasn't struggling, wasn't panicking so hard that he didn't understand that Keith was here to help.

It seemed to take forever, but they finally broke the surface. Keith gasped as his face rose into the air, as the sun hit his face, and he heard Lance suck in an enormous, wheezing breath, then immediately begin to cough. He brought them to the side of the platform, and Lance grabbed onto the edge with his bound hands, knuckles turning white. Keith hauled himself up onto the platform and completely ignored Eforan still standing there, watching creepily. As soon as he was back on something solid, he whirled back and gripped Lance's upper arms and dragged him in.

Lance let him, then knelt on the platform, bent over himself and breathing too fast, too hard, too loud. He was still coughing every few breaths, and he spat water out onto the already wet surface. Keith scrambled a few feet away on his hands and knees and retrieved his bayard, then brought it back and sliced through that stupid wrist puzzle. As soon as the pieces fell free, Lance fell flat on his palms, head down, his entire body shaking madly.

"Lance, Lance." Keith could barely talk. He got his hands on Lance's shoulders and tried to bend down far enough to look in his face. "Lance, are you panicking? You're panicking, aren't you."

Lance nodded shakily. "Yeah, I..." His voice was choked and broken.

"It's okay."

A great spout of water flew flew up in the air as if a bomb had gone off in the lake, and there was Blue, hovering over the surface with all jets on her paws firing to keep her in the air. The mirror surface was completely ruined by the rippling waves caused by the motion. Eforan fell to the ground with a thud Keith barely heard. He was looking up at Blue. She wasn't attacking, so she must think Lance was reasonably safe now.

"I've got this!" Keith yelled. "Thank you for coming!"

Blue's head dipped in acknowledgment, but she didn't leave. She flew to the edge of the lake and landed, flattening a good chunk of trees. Keith was already turning back to Lance. He was pretty sure he could handle this part, after everything.

"Everything's okay now," he said gently, voice audible now that Blue wasn't doing the VTOL thing right next to them. "You're out of the water. You can breathe. The air is fine. No one is going to do that again." He turned a glare to Eforan. "Cuz if he does, he's going to _die."_

Eforan said nothing, just stared back at him with raised eyebrows. He was still sitting on the platform where he'd fallen, and his expression was shockingly mild and unconcerned. Keith did not get him at all.

He dismissed it as unimportant for the moment and turned back to Lance. Lance was sitting up now, facing him, though his face was washed out and his eyes were still almost rolling with terror. "Okay," Keith said calmly. "You know the drill. There's no pneumonia. No one is putting pressure on your lungs. You're safe now, and you're going to stay safe, because me and Blue aren't gonna let it be any other way. Let's just breathe, okay? In and out. Yeah, like that. In... And out..."

They breathed together, slow and steady, breath by breath. Keith rubbed Lance's upper arms through his sodden jacket, careful and firm, almost a massage. Lance's shaking slowed, then stopped, and he let his eyes fall shut and slumped in Keith's grip. He pulled in a breath, mouth open wide, then pursed his lips like he was going to whistle and pushed the air out in a steady stream. Then he opened his eyes and nodded.

"Okay." Keith nodded back. He felt like crying, but he couldn't let Lance see him like that, not right now. He pulled Lance into a hug instead, fierce but still trying to leave some space in case Lance needed it. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith's back, fingers clenching in his shirt, and pulled him in tighter. Okay, no need for space then.

Keith rested his chin on Lance's shoulder and stared at Eforan, daring him to say anything, to do anything. Eforan sat there, meek as a mouse. Not one of Allura's mice, though. Those guys were anything but meek. Meek as an Earth mouse, then. Whatever. He wasn't moving, wasn't acting like he was going to attack them again, and that was all Keith cared about at the moment.

Lance's chest heaved against Keith's. He seemed calmer, though, more in control of himself. He wasn't shaking as hard anymore, just a light tremble that probably wouldn't go away for a couple of hours. He was okay. He was alive. He hadn't drowned. Again.

"Okay?" Keith asked after a long moment. If this was one of the usual panic attacks, back in the safety of the castle, he would be happy to sit here for as long as Lance needed him to. But they had business to attend to.

Lance nodded, then carefully pulled back. His hands seemed to unclench from Keith's shirt one finger at a time. Keith let him take his time. When he was done, he shuffled to the side and climbed to his feet, then reached down for Lance. Lance let him help him up, and Keith put an arm around his shoulders to make sure he would stay there.

He glared at Eforan, feeling Lance tremble against his side. "What the _quiznak._ Why would you do that, you complete scumbag? I don't get it. If you'd wanted to hurt or kill Lance, there were _much_ more efficient ways. You had plenty of opportunity, too. And why would you attack Lance in the first place? I was the one who beat you at both dueling and piloting. Lance had nothing to do with it."

"Ah, there's a misapprehension there." Eforan climbed carefully to his feet, watching Keith the entire time as if making sure he wouldn't be attacked. Well, Keith wanted to, no mistake about that. But Lance was the one with the long-range weapon, and Keith wasn't about to let go of him so he could slice Eforan up with his sword.

"You bet there's a misapprehension," Lance said, voice still shaky, but he was coming back to himself. He sounded angry, as he darn well deserved to. "Neither of us understand what you just did. You could have killed me, you know. Is this how you treat diplomatic guests on Sylose?"

Eforan's eyes flashed, but he shook his head. He held his hands out, spread as if to placate them both. "My apologies. I should have been more clear." He looked to Keith. "This was not an act of revenge. You besting me at two of my main skills had nothing to do with it." He looked to Lance. "As for how we treat diplomatic guests... Yes, actually."

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it again. Keith shook his head. He was more confused than ever.

"Again, I apologize." Eforan bent down in a deep, sweeping bow. It was a bit spoiled by his dripping clothes, soaked by Blue's dramatic entrance and the waves that had lapped over the platform. Keith hoped all that finery was ruined now, he really did. Eforan straightened up and faced them again. "Please walk back to the palace with me, and all will be explained."

Keith and Lance looked at each other. Keith looked at the path that led back to the palace, felt the trembling of Lance's body in the circle of his arm. He looked to Eforan. "Yeah, screw walking. We'll take the blue lion."

"That is also acceptable."

Eforan turned around and started walking. Keith and Lance gave each other a weirded-out glance. Then Lance turned to look across the lake at Blue. He put his thumb and index finger in his mouth and made a piercing whistle. It was pure theatrics, since Keith knew he could ask Blue to come silently with their telepathic link. But Blue perked up, tail practically wagging, then flew across the lake to pick them up.

The Sylosians had better have a freaking _good_ explanation for all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for near drowning. Everything turns out okay in the end, but if you think it might bother you, please skip the section from "Lance was too startled even to yell, though Keith dearly hoped that he'd at least had a chance to draw a breath. " to "It seemed to take forever, but they finally broke the surface."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah, I stayed up too late again. Please ignore typos. I'll get 'em in the morning.

The flight back to the palace was over in about thirty seconds, but Lance and Keith sat in the blue lion for a while longer, trying to calm down. Lance was sitting in his pilot seat, his hands on his knees while he continued to tremble, and Keith paced back and forth behind him, cursing and stomping his feet as hard as he could. He refrained from kicking the walls because he didn't want to take this out on Blue, but if it had been his own lion, Red would have understood. 

Eventually, Lance stood up and walked around his chair and put a hand on Keith's shoulder. Keith stopped stomping and looked at him, breathing hard. He knew his face was red, his expression twisted, but Lance didn't recoil. Just gave him some version of a smile, small and restrained. "Blue says there's a decontamination chamber in the back, like in the castle but smaller, only big enough for one. We can run the air cycle and dry off a little."

Keith blinked. He had honestly forgotten that they were both soaking wet. He looked down at his feet, but the drips were already wicking away into the floor. Of course the lion of oceans had mechanisms for dealing with excess water. Keith looked up at Lance and drew a breath. "Okay. You wanna go first? My jacket is still dry, so you'll probably take longer."

"Sure thing. It'll just be a tick."

Even a mini Altean decontamination chamber did quick work. Each cycle only took about five minutes. By that time, Keith and Lance were in agreement that it was time to demand some answers. They were as calm as they were going to get, which wasn't much, but hey, they were trying. 

They exited Blue's ramp and walked onto the parade ground where they had first met the royal family, now practically empty. Princess Mili was waiting for them, and when they appeared she opened her mouth, then closed it again at the looks on their faces. She turned and silently led the way back into the palace, and Keith and Lance followed.

Some Sylosian retainers and courtiers were standing around in the corridors, watching them sleepily as they moved toward the council chamber where Team Voltron had first split up at the beginning of the day. Most were probably still resting. Keith wondered if even the queen and king took a royal naptime, if anyone at all would be in the council chamber to meet them. 

But everyone was there. The queen and king, Allura and Shiro and Pidge, Coran and Hunk. And Eforan and Yarian. Eforan had been in the middle of saying something when they arrived, and he cut off and turned to look at them as Keith and Lance stepped through the door after Mili. The Voltron crew had been silently listening, their faces in various stages of confusion, shock, and anger. Keith found it vaguely gratifying. Apparently Eforan had been telling everyone what had happened. Keith was glad that the rest of his team was as upset as he was.

Shiro's face was pure thunder, but when Keith and Lance arrived he turned toward them, face opening in relief to see them in the flesh. "Lance! Keith!" He all but ran to meet them, already reaching out. Allura and Hunk weren't far behind him, and the rest of the team, too.

But Shiro got there first. He took Lance's shoulders in his hands and looked in his face searchingly. "Are you okay? Eforan told us... You had a panic attack, didn't you?" Anger touched his voice at the end, not anger at Lance, but Lance still flinched minutely.

Lance nodded, strong and firm. His voice was strong, too. "I'm okay. Keith took care of me."

"Still. That never should have happened. Can I...?"

Lance nodded, and Shiro stepped closer and pulled him into a big, strong hug. He left some space, like Keith had done, but Lance twined his arms around his back and clenched in tight, so Shiro tightened his grip in return. He pulled away after a few seconds, aware of the company they were in, but he left a hand on Lance's shoulder as he stood back to give the others access.

Hunk fussed over Lance too, holding his face in his hands and looking him over for bumps and bruises, and Coran asked about his breathing and a few other medical-sounding questions with a concern that was not quite clinical. Not even close. Allura stood behind them with a mighty frown that should have terrified any potential enemy. Pidge said nothing, just snuck up to Lance's side and wrapped an arm around his waist in a sideways hug, and Lance put his arm around her shoulders in return and pulled her in to lean on him.

He was talking the whole time, insisting that he was fine, he wasn't hurt, it was over, Keith had saved him, Keith had taken care of him. None of it was enough. None of it would be, not till they were able to go home where everyone felt safe, where everyone knew that _Lance_ was truly, fully safe. For now, though, this would have to do.

Shiro looked at Keith, too, his eyes dark with concern. "You okay?" His voice was low, but Keith heard him.

Keith started to nod almost reflexively, then stopped and thought about it. "I'm not physically hurt," was the answer he went with. "Most of the day was great. We had a lot of fun. It sucks that they went and ruined it at the end."

Shiro nodded. His hand on Lance's shoulder tightened a bit, thumb rubbing across the bony ridge, and his other hand reached out for Keith's wrist and gave it a brief squeeze. Keith let out a slow breath. It helped. Not enough, but it helped.

Once everyone had their fill of fussing over Lance (and Keith, to a lesser extent), Allura turned to face the Sylosians again. She stood between her team and their hosts, her back tall and straight, hands on her hips. Keith was pretty sure she was taller now than she had been at the beginning of the day. Apparently intimidation was more important than diplomacy right now.

"All right," Allura said. "I would like an explanation. Can someone please try to convince me of _why_ it was necessary to attack my paladins? While they were vulnerable under your roof, guests of your home? My people may have been away from the universe for ten thousand years, but I hadn't expected the rules of hospitality to change _quite this much."_

There was an edge in Allura's voice that Keith had never heard before. She was taking this really, really personally. But then, she was the one who had told them to come without their armor, to use their weapons only as a last resort. She had trusted the Sylosians, and she must feel just as betrayed as Keith did by that cruel attack on Lance. More, even, since she hadn’t been nursing unexplained suspicions all day long the way Keith had.

The queen and king looked at each other, but it was Eforan who stepped forward again. His three-clawed hands were clasped in front of him, almost in a posture of supplication. "I believe that duty falls to me. The final act was my decision, though the course of the day was agreed upon by my mother and father, as well as my oldest nest-siblings and the royal councilors."

Allura's gaze switched to him. "You have already taken pains to describe exactly what you did to the Blue Paladin, but it's true that you did not tell us why. Please do so now."

Princess Mili stepped in front of Eforan, cutting him off when he opened his mouth. "We had heard rumors," she said. It seemed like a protective gesture. She was trying to take some of Team Voltron's ire, not letting all of it fall on her brother.

Eforan closed his mouth, and Mili kept going. "The paladins of Voltron have a reputation in the universe now. I'm sure you're aware, after your attacks on the Galra, your many victories and conquests, the people you've saved, the allies who have died to defend you. Most of it is good, certainly. We heard of your nobility, your sacrifice, your strength. But one rumor amongst the rest did trouble us. We had to know the truth for ourselves."

Allura's shoulders were stiff, and her hands tightened on her waist. "Which rumor was that?"

Mili glanced back at Eforan, who gave her an unreadable look. She faced the princess again, and she stood straight and tall, too. Mili was the tallest Sylosian in the room, even taller than her queen-mother. She cut an imposing figure, in her way. After the day he'd had, Keith would never underestimate a Sylosian again. Especially not the women.

"We heard that the Red Paladin and the Blue Paladin fought each other almost as much as they fought outside enemies. That they could come together during battle, but when they were allowed to be themselves, they were cutting and cruel to each other. This was...deeply disturbing to us. We were disappointed that the new defenders of the universe might be so ungentle with each other."

A thick, heavy silence fell on the room. Keith could almost feel Lance wilting beside him. He knew what was going through his head: that this whole thing was his fault, after all, that he wasn't a good paladin, that his early behavior toward Keith had cost them a valuable alliance, that he deserved what had happened to him. Keith knew Lance's doubts and insecurities as well as he knew his own, now, after all the talking they'd done.

This could not be allowed to stand. It had to be refuted immediately. Keith started to step forward, but Shiro's arm shot out and caught him across the chest, blocking his path. Keith stood still, fuming, his hands clenched into fists. He didn't miss the way the Sylosians looked at him, eyes caught by the movement. "Wait," Shiro counseled, low and intense. "Allura can handle this."

But Eforan spoke first. His voice was apologetic for the first time that Keith had heard. At the lake, he had sounded calm and in control, rational, as if what he had done to Lance was nothing more than a science experiment. Now, he sounded warm and emotional, more like the Eforan Keith remembered from the dining hall and the gardens, where he spoke gently and smiled openly.

"You must understand. Unity is everything to Sylose. We are born and raised in clutches, small groups of peer-siblings, but our families extend far beyond that. We have nest-mates, wing-brothers, flight-sisters, dozens of titles and relationships that do not translate precisely to your language. We are fierce to outsiders, but to our own, we are kind. It is the way we have learned to survive."

Mili nodded to her brother, then took up the tale. "We know that it is not the same for other races. We know that the Galra strike down their own kind for the smallest hint of weakness, and their emperor has ruled for generations upon generations. We have heard stories of other peoples, too, many of them. But since the Galra expansion, Sylose has been isolated from most of the universe, focusing on defense in order to survive. No one in our family has been able to witness the habits of other cultures. So we had to know. We had to see for ourselves."

"You were testing us," Lance said, softly at first, then building in strength. Shiro's hand tightened in his shoulder again. "From the beginning, you were testing us. The way you split us up... You wanted me and Keith to be separated from the rest of our team. You put us through different contests and situations so you could watch our interactions."

"Yes." Eforan looked him in the eyes. "We wanted to see how you truly were with each other. And what we witnessed..."

Lance stiffened, and Keith knew that he was expecting something bad. But here, the royal couple interfered. The queen tilted her head and cleared her throat, then turned to the prince who had been silent until now. Yarian. "Your observations, first-son?"

Yarian tilted his head in acknowledgment, then reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small device. He tapped it, and a screen popped up with a scrolling list of notes. "Paladin Lance was unfailingly kind to the chicklings. Paladin Keith was uncomfortable, but let them do as they wished. When Paladin Lance was overwhelmed, Paladin Keith interfered to pull him out. They spoke to each other comfortably and shared mutual touch. Paladin Keith offered options in case Paladin Lance became too uncomfortable, but Paladin Lance refused." Yarian looked up at the room. "That was when we realized that Paladin Lance had a weakness we could exploit for further information. Observation indicated it had to do with his body feeling closed in or restricted."

Keith's fist clenched tighter, fingernails biting into his palm. "That's all from the first _half hour_ we were with you! You were already thinking of ways to make things as bad as possible for Lance? To push him over the edge?" How dare they. How _dare_ they.

Yarian tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and his mother waved her hand. "Continue reading your observations."

Yarian went on. It was a long list. Every time Keith and Lance had thought they were speaking privately, someone was listening in. Apparently Sylosian hearing was much better than they had thought it was, and they were not even the slightest bit ashamed of eavesdropping. Their behavior throughout the entire day was picked over and analyzed in minute detail.

And as it went on, Keith realized that the tone was...positive. Yarian sounded pleased with the notes he had taken, with what he and his siblings had learned by watching them. In the background, the queen and king nodded along in approval. Yes, Keith and Lance had disagreed, had even snapped at each other, but they had always been able to smooth things out afterward. Even their relentless teasing, it seemed, was recognized by the Sylosians as being healthy and good.

They really had come a long way, Keith realized. He remembered the early days, when he and Lance had been constantly at each other's throats. Yeah, Lance had started it, but Keith had pushed back without hesitation. Sometimes he had even insulted Lance out of the blue for no reason at all. As the war had gone on, their banter had eventually come to have more of a teasing and playful tone, but there were times when they both really meant it, when they really wanted to hurt each other.

But since the jungle planet, since Keith had made two terrible, horrible mistakes and done everything he could to make amends... Things had changed. Yes, after a day spent with the Sylosians and seeing how they related with each other, Keith could understand how the early version of his and Lance's relationship might have disturbed them. But now...

Yarian reached the end of the list, some inane thing about how Keith and Lance enjoyed the lunch and done their best to be polite even without claws to hold their food. Then he paused, turned off the device, and looked to Eforan.

Eforan steeled himself, lifting his head and looking straight at Lance. "The final test." He looked at Keith. "It was for you, though the attack was against Paladin Lance. We needed to know what you would do, Paladin Keith."

Keith felt dizzy. "So you...you dumped Lance into a lake, with his hands tied, just to see how I would react? You risked my teammate's _life_ to find out if I would try to save him?"

"Paladin Lance's life was never in danger," Eforan said as calmly as he could. "A cloaked diver was waiting to rescue him if anything went wrong." Oh, of course. Of course the Sylosians had cloaking technology. Of course they were just pretending not to be good swimmers. "But yes. I presented the appearance of mortal peril in order to observe your reaction."

Keith swayed. Shiro's arm came up again and passed around his shoulders to pull him in. Keith leaned on Shiro, aware of Lance on the side of their leader, also being held and supported. It was all just too much. "Did I pass?" Keith asked, his voice sounding high and thin to his own ears. "Did me and Lance freaking _pass_ your stupid _test?"_

Shiro's arm tightened around his shoulders, but he didn't rebuke him. Keith would wager that Shiro felt exactly the same way. He just couldn't say it out loud. Being the Red Paladin had its perks.

Eforan blinked nervously and finally broke, looking to his parents for support.

The queen stepped forward, regal and imposing, the king at her side. She looked directly at Keith. "Yes. You both passed the test, Paladin Keith. And we apologize."

She bowed. Deeply. The monarch of a sovereign planet was bowing in apology. The king was bowing too, and each of the royal children, all of the councilors and attendants also in the chamber. Then the queen straightened and looked at Lance.

"We did not realize the weakness we exploited was so...acute, Paladin Lance. You suffered a...panic attack?"

Lance nodded numbly, and the queen nodded in return. 

"We did not intend to cause you such pain. That was our error. We made you fear for your life, and you had every right to react with mortal terror. Still, it was not our intent to damage you, neither in body nor in soul. Again, we apologize."

She bowed. Everyone else bowed, too. Lance endured it, his face reddening. His lips were pressed flat, and he was as unable to respond as Keith had been. 

Last, the queen faced Princess Allura. "It was badly done of us to attack your paladins, to betray your trust and abuse the privileges of hospitaility. Your anger is rightful and appreciated. We apologize most sincerely." Another bow, deeper than the others, and longest of all.

Princess Allura stood and accepted it as her due.

Once again, the queen faced the princess. Her gaze was steady and forthright, and that of all her court with her. "Your people are worthy of the highest honor, Princess Allura. The bonds of wing-family are strong with you all, particularly between the paladins of red and blue. If you will have us, after the poor behavior we have shown you, we would be pleased to ally with you in the fight against Zarkon. I can promise you will have no stronger flight-mates at your side, now and for a hundred generations to come."

Allura didn't hesitate. She turned to Lance. "Paladin? What do you think? The greatest injury done today was against you. Are you willing to forgive the Sylosians and work together with them as allies?"

Lance stared at her, mouth dropping open.

Allura nodded gently. "It is your decision. There's no need to respond in haste. We can take a few days to let you think it over. Or you can decide now, if you wish. Say the word, and we will leave this planet and never come back. I will accept your choice, whatever it is."

Lance opened and closed his mouth several times, nothing coming out. He looked at Keith. Keith gave him a nod, fierce and strong. Whatever Lance decided, Keith was all in. If he wanted to leave, they would go. If he wanted to stay and have a true talk with the Sylosians, really start to negotiate an alliance as equals with no tricks and no secrets, that would be fine too.

Lance closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked across the room at the Sylosians. His gaze went from face to face, studying them all in turn as if trying to read their intentions, their hearts. Then he looked at Allura.

"This is...too much for me," he said. "I don't want to have sole responsibility for whether or not we make an alliance with an entire planet. But if you're looking for my opinion... Yes. Yes, we should partner up with these guys. They're great. Their technology is amazing, and they have incredible skill and strength. And their team bonding, their _family_ bonding, is super good. Their kids are adorable and loving, and all of the adults love them all and take care of them. Siblings look out for and take care of each other, and they really are kind and open to outsiders. If they're a little suspicious at first, well, we can't really blame them for that, can we? We're suspicious too."

He looked across at the Sylosians. He seemed to be looking directly at Prince Eforan. And he nodded. "Yeah. We should do it."

There was a collective sigh of relief, a relaxing in the room, almost entirely on the Sylosian side. And then, smiles, puffed cheeks, restrained little cheers. Yarian waved his hand in the air, and Eforan caught it in a messy clasp, almost like they were trying to do a high five and gave up partway through. It was...ridiculously adorable.

Lance drew a breath and looked at Allura again. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to go...have a nap. Back at the castle. If that's okay. I'm kinda wrung out, and the idea of a midday rest is suddenly making a _whole_ lot of sense to me."

Allura laughed, gentle and kind. She reached out and took his face in her hands, then planted a kiss on his forehead. "Yes, of course. Take the blue lion. Keith can escort you. Both of you deserve the afternoon off."

Lance gave her a goofy grin, and that was that.

Halfway back to the castle, something occurred to Keith. "Hey, who won our bet?"

Lance looked up at him from the pilot seat, Keith standing next to him holding onto the back of the chair with one hand. He was frowning. "I don't know. Did we both lose, or did we both win? Eforan did attack us, but he wasn't actually a bad dude. I don't think."

Keith nodded. "Yeah, I think so. You were right all along. He's not a bad dude. But I was also right. He was planning to do something nasty to us the whole time. So...we both won. I guess?"

"Sounds good to me." Lance leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. "Man, I can't believe you agreed to do chores with Coran for a whole _week._ What were you thinking?"

Keith laughed and cuffed his head gently with the knuckles of one hand. "Well, you agreed to spar with me for a whole month. What were _you_ thinking?"

Lance laughed, bright and loud and unafraid. He was limp and worn out, but he was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Keith grinned and looked forward at the castle coming ever closer as Blue flew to meet it. He was already planning sparring sessions in his head. Home had never looked so inviting.

He and Lance were going to have fun, no matter what. Keith would make sure of it. And looking down at Lance, listening to his laughter, he knew that Lance would, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY I FINISHED. Finally! I totally meant to get this done back in NOVEMBER, holy crap, but then I wrote a big bang, and then lots of other stuff, and then Christmas, and then Season 2. So yeah. All of that. More fic will be coming from me soon! I have huge plans. HUGE. And a whole 57k fic all ready to go that'll start posting in a week or so.


End file.
